


Bluebirds Fly

by dovahkn (lilypond)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 64,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilypond/pseuds/dovahkn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What's your name?” Preston says.</p>
<p><em>It's my dream,</em> Judith thinks. <em>I can be whoever I want.</em></p>
<p>“Dorothy,” she says. “My name is Dorothy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's No Place...

  
  


_It's a dream,_ she thinks as she runs down the street, following the flow of the crowd and their panicked noises. _Just a dream. Things like this don't happen in real life._

_Just a dream,_ she repeats to herself as she's checked off the list and ushered up onto the platform, past the pleading Vault-Tec representative that had been at their door just days before. _Just a dream,_ as the mushroom cloud blooms in the distance and the elevator comes to life, groaning as it sucks them down into the earth.

Her neighbors— _only some of them, how many more are left out there? How many didn't make it? No matter, just a dream—_ whisper amongst themselves, husbands comforting wives, that one nice young couple huddled together soothing their baby, and Judith stands by herself, all alone.

Ruby is—had been? _Is—_ at the grocery store. Judith could have gone with her, _should_ have gone with her, but she'd been feeling lazy and claimed a headache, told Ruby she just wanted to take a nap before dinner.

So she was there to be woken by the screaming in the street, to get to the vault in time. She was there, and Ruby wasn't. Ruby was the one Vault-Tec wanted in the first place, Judith only allowed on the list because Ruby wouldn't sign up without her. And yet here she is, alone.

_But it's just a dream. Don't panic. Just a dream._

She gets in her vault suit in a daze, climbs into the pod without question, and—cold, she's getting cold. She must be waking up. Ruby must have let her sleep a little too long, and now it must be evening and getting chilly. It's well into autumn now, after all. She’s been looking forward to seeing all the children in costume for Halloween for weeks.

She wonders, as she fades out, what Ruby's cooking for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more character/additional tags will be added as they become relevant!
> 
> come visit me on tumblr [here](http://dovahkn.co.vu)!


	2. It's Always Best to Start at the Beginning

Judith gasps, coughing like her lungs are full of water.

_Cold. So, so cold._

She must still be asleep.

“Critical failure in cryogenic array. All vault residents must vacate immediately,” a calm, detached voice says as the pod door hisses open.

She blinks furiously in the light—her eyes are so sore and dry, and her _muscles—_

She collapses to the ground with the first step she attempts, crying out as her knees strike the concrete. She pants for another few moments, waiting for the spinning in her head to stop, before looking up.

None of the other pods are opening.

“Hello?” She calls out, voice cracking.

All she hears in return is the rhythmic dripping of water and faint hissing until the voice repeats itself through speakers in the walls, buzzing with static.

She shoves herself to her feet finally, legs still wobbling, and shuffles forward until she can see inside the pod across from hers. Inside is—

“Oh God,” she groans, sinking back to her knees and retching weakly. “Oh my _God.”_

She’s never seen a dead body before except at a funeral. And there, her aunt had looked calm, peaceful in death—Judith could almost truly believe she was at rest. This is nothing like that.

Mrs. Callahan’s freezer-burned body slumps to the side, eyes wide and staring—just days ago they’d chatted pleasantly at the mailbox together, Judith rambling excitedly about her upcoming play and listening as Mrs. Callahan, in turn, talked about her niece’s birthday party. She was smiling, and happy, and _alive_ , and now—

But what about the others?

Judith stands back up and takes a deep breath, steeling herself before peering into the next pod. She jerks her head away instantly.

“No,” she mumbles, moving to the next and taking the briefest glimpse inside to confirm her suspicions. “No, no, it’s just a dream. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”

 _Just a really, really vivid dream,_ she thinks. _Like Dorothy in Oz. I just have to wake up._

There’s the young couple from down the street in pods opposite each other. Strange—she had thought the baby had been with one of them when they entered the pods, and now it’s only the two of them.

More evidence this is just a dream, anyway. Things change behind your back all the time in dreams.

She swallows against the need to retch again, acid still burning in her throat. As she turns around she notices a computer terminal against the wall and turns it on, clicking through the vital signs for each pod.

Asphyxiation. They _suffocated._ Were they awake when it happened? Did they die panicking and aware? And why didn’t she die, too?

“Vault res...must vac...ediately,” crackles through the speakers again.

“Okay. If that’ll get me out of this dream, okay. I can do this. Follow the yellow brick road, right?”

The door leading out of the room slides open smoothly as she presses the button beside it—she’d be more impressed if she wasn’t so preoccupied. She peeks through the door to the left, but on discovering it’s full of more pods moves on. She’s seen enough dead bodies already to last her the rest of her life, dream or not.

She makes her way on through the vault, skin crawling in the eerie silence. Where _is_ everyone?

Finally, she hears movement in another room.

“Hello?” She calls out again. “Is anyone—”

She turns the corner to find an enormous roach skittering around on the floor and shrieks. The thing squeaks, twitching its obscenely large antennae, and turns towards her.

“Oh, no, no, _no,_ ” she whimpers as it comes for her. “Shoo!” She kicks at it, yelping when it sinks its pincers into her leg. Her eyes dart around the room, and the moment she notices the black baton lying on the table she leaps for it.

She grabs it and swings wildly, catching the roach mid-jump and knocking it to the side. It squeaks again and charges back at her. She whips the baton downwards, smashing it into the roach’s head with a sickening crunch.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she stares down at the dead... _thing_ at her feet. Roaches had been terrifying enough to her when they were tiny and could be stomped underfoot, but this is just grotesque. She closes her eyes and tries to calm her breathing before moving again.

She walks slower now, peeking around corners before entering rooms, mindful of the throbbing pain in her leg. It doesn't seem to have broken through the suit, at least, but it’s definitely going to bruise. If there are any more out there, she doesn’t want to just stumble into one.

She moves on, finding no signs of life—nothing to show anyone has been here at all except some coffee mugs and old beer bottles strewn around the living areas, though coated with a film of dust like they’ve been sitting there for a long, long time.

The next two roaches she handles easily enough, seeing them long before they reach her and smashing their heads in one at a time without getting bitten again.

But when she reaches the first skeleton, she can’t keep herself from screaming again. She gapes down at it, mind blank in shock. Its tattered, decaying vault suit is a stark contrast to hers—still brand new and bright, barely out of the package.

She stares at it for a long time until the announcement comes over the speakers again and she can finally drag herself away.

Up ahead is a sort of office with a large, round desk, terminal still humming with electricity, another skeleton spread out over the floor in front of it. She picks through the options on it briefly, only selecting the one that will open the evacuation tunnel just in case she needs it open in order to leave. She shudders at the syringes on the table—some kind of drug, obviously, though she can’t guess what. Like hell is she picking those up, in any case.

She freezes when she finds the gun.

Does she really need something like that? Can she even _use_ it, if it comes to it? She’s only shot a gun one time in her life, when her father had still been alive. And she’d been all of twelve years old at the time.

Ten years have passed since then, and she hadn’t exactly committed much to memory. Could she even _load_ the thing?

Nervously, she picks it up anyway, hooking it onto the belt of her vault suit. Her baton is fine for taking on the roaches, but if even those could get so large and aggressive, who knows what else she might find beyond the vault door? What kind of creatures could be waiting outside for her?

She dispatches the next batch of roaches with a bit more confidence as she heads for the exit. Finally, she reaches the vault door, stepping over another couple of skeletons with a wince. She hits the orange button marked _LIFT_ and waits.

“Pip-Boy interface required to activate vault door cycling sequence. Have a nice day,” the calm computerized voice replies.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Judith groans. “What in the world is a _Pip-Boy?”_

She looks around helplessly, scanning the room for something, _anything,_ that looks like it might fit the hole next to the button.

Just when she thinks she’s going to have to go back and hunt through the vault more carefully, she glances down at the nearest skeleton.

There’s _something_ on this one’s wrist. It’s covered in dust too, and she can’t help but worry a bit that it might not work anymore, but there it is printed right above the screen— _Pip-Boy._

She mumbles an apology to the skeleton as she gingerly pulls the thing off its arm, affixing it around her own and flicking the switch. She watches, fascinated, as it boots up.

It’s just like the computer terminals at the library, but even smaller, more compact somehow—she can’t imagine how it’s possible for a computer to be so small.

She fumbles with it until she finds the plug that fits the hole and jams it in, hitting the button again and sighing in relief when the machinery starts moving.

She’s finally getting out of here, out of this—this _tomb_. Whatever is waiting for her out there can’t possibly be as bad as staying sealed inside with the dead.

The elevator she had just come down on— _just_ now, it couldn’t have even been an hour—is mottled with rust, the gate almost sticking as it lifts.

 _Time to wake up now,_ she thinks as she rides it up, dreading what she might see otherwise. _Come on, any second now._

Instead, she finds herself blinded by sunlight, blinking and dazed, and then...

The world is dead, in a word. Dead, decayed, _ruined—_ it’s all gone. More skeletons litter the ground nearby, and she begins to wonder if she is perhaps the _only_ person left alive in the world.

She looks out over Sanctuary Hills, noting with dismay that their house—their _beautiful_ little house, with the garden she’d been so proud of—is completely caved in.

 _Nowhere to go but forward,_ she thinks. She walks slowly back down the path, head spinning with how _different_ everything looks.

The neighborhood itself is deserted—cars rusted in driveways, skeletal trees swaying dead branches in the light breeze. She wanders down the street in a daze.

A whirring sound catches her attention. She flicks her baton back out, ready for more roaches, eyes darting around the ground around her.

“Miss Judith? Is that you?”

Her head snaps up. Hovering towards her is a Mister Handy, dirty and a little dinged up, but functional.

“...Wadsworth?”

“It’s _Codsworth_ , actually. And if you’ve come by to ask about babysitting, I’m afraid the mister and missus have stepped out for the moment with young Shaun. Perhaps they’ve taken him to the park? It’s so lovely this time of year, when the leaves are all changing. If you’d like to come inside and sit down to wait for them, I’m sure I can put on a pot of tea.”

“This is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had,” she mumbles.

“Dream? Are you feeling well, Miss Judith?”

“I’m...I’m fine. It’s fine. I just need to wake up. Then everything will be okay again. Everything will be...back to normal.”

“Delirious, I see. Well, not eating for two hundred years will do that, I’m afraid.”

“Two... _hundred?”_

“A bit over two hundred and ten, actually,” Codsworth says. Its voice fades out under the ringing in her ears— _two hundred years._ It can’t be real.

 _Cryogenic._ She’d heard the voice say _cryogenic array_.

Ruby had told her about something like that once, hadn’t she? Some kind of experiments with stasis—attempting to freeze a living creature in time, to be thawed out in the future. It had seemed like silly science fiction at the time. How could you possibly _freeze_ something in order to preserve it without killing it?

“Miss Judith?”

“Codsworth,” she says slowly. “If it’s really been two hundred years...how can you still think your family might be coming back?

“Well,” it says in a small, almost sad voice. “You did, didn’t you?”

She immediately feels terrible for the poor thing—even though this is a dream, even though it’s a _robot_ she’s talking to.

“And your sister, of course,” it continues more brightly.

“My s—Ruby? You’ve seen _Ruby?”_

“Oh, yes, and quite recently. In the last decade, at least. She looked a little different, but who doesn’t these days? Well, except you, of course. You look fresh as a daisy. I imagine the mister and missus will look much the same if they were there with you. You... _do_ know where they are, don’t you? Are they coming soon?”

“Oh, Codsworth,” she sighs. “They’re...I’m sorry, I’m the only one who survived. They froze us in these...these pods, and I just woke up, and everyone else was...dead. I didn’t see the baby in there, but the others are gone. I’m sorry.”

It hovers in silence for a long time.

“I see,” it says quietly. “In that case, I...in that case...I ought to...get back to pruning. The missus will be _so_ cross when she returns if I’ve let the yardwork go in her absence.”

Judith bites her lip. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Of course. I’ll...I’ll see you later, Codsworth.”

She backs away, then turns and continues down the road, gritting her teeth as she passes the ruins of her old house and refusing to look directly at it.

There’s nothing left for her here.

She crosses the bridge carefully—it had already been ancient two hundred years before, and it’s already broken halfway through now. It’s incredible that any of it has survived at all, really.

She’s just passing the old gas station when she hears the thumping of paws. She tenses when she sees the dog running towards her, hand reaching for her baton, when it stops and barks at her, ears perked up and tail wagging.

“Hey there,” she says softly. “You friendly?”

The dog turns in a circle and barks at her enthusiastically again. She reaches out cautiously, smiling when the dog eagerly licks her palm. “Yeah, you’re friendly, all right. Couldn’t hurt a fly, I bet.”

The dog’s sudden growl startles her, but not as much as it does when the ground starts to rumble and shake.

She screams as half a dozen huge, ugly creatures shove their way out of the dirt and charge towards her. She swings her baton wildly at the ones that come near, almost never managing to make contact but keeping them more or less at bay.

Then the dog jumps in front of her. The next creature that dives at her is met with the dog’s teeth, blood splattering on the cracked pavement. As Judith weakly bats away the others nipping at her heels, the dog tears through them one by one, until there’s nothing but a pile of the beasts at her feet.

“I take it back,” she says, panting. “An absolute _menace_ to flies everywhere. Very impressive.”

She scratches the dog behind the ears gratefully. “Would you like to come with me? Maybe do a little more saving my life? God knows I could use the help.”

If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn he understands what she's saying by the joyful bark and little bounce in his step she gets in reply.

“Well, all right then.” She glances down one more time at the bodies on the ground, crinkling her nose in distaste as she steps over them. “C’mon, Toto. Off to see the wizard.”

They continue on down the road towards Concord. The dog follows eagerly at her heels, ears high and keen eyes sweeping the area as they go. She has to admit, she feels much better having him along already.

At first, the streets of Concord seem quiet. The houses stand empty, broken windows gaping like dead eyes. She walks slowly, looking around in a sort of horrified awe, until she hears gunshots. She freezes. The dog growls and runs ahead, following the noise.

Judith has no idea what to do. She should—she should turn around, she should run back—she’s completely unprepared for this.

"Well, what do we have here?" A rough voice says from behind her. She gasps and whips her head around.

The relief she feels at seeing another actual person is short-lived. The tall man leers at her from one of the open doorways, shotgun in his hands. His dirty face is twisted in a sadistic grin.

She runs.

Cackling laughter follows behind her, and she can hear his footsteps as he pursues her. She turns a corner and stops again, almost falling as her feet skid on the loose gravel.

Before her are another three men dressed like the one chasing her, yelling and shooting at something on the balcony of the old Museum of Freedom. They haven't noticed her yet, but she obviously can't go that way.

But when she turns around, the man has caught up with her already.

"Please," she whimpers, backing away. "Please, don't."

"Mm, I love it when they beg.”

Her foot hits the edge of a pothole and she trips, sprawling back on the ground with a yelp. The gun in her belt is knocked loose, clattering to the ground. She grabs it desperately and points it at the man with shaking hands, whispering to herself.

“Come on, come on, how hard can it possibly be, just aim and...”

The trigger won’t move. She squeezes harder as the wild-looking man laughs.

“The safety!” A faint voice from behind her yells. “Turn off the safety!”

Frantically, Judith turns the gun over in her hands, searching for some kind of switch. She flips the first lever she finds and tries again.

She winces as the shot rings out. The gun kicks back harder than she’d been expecting, almost flying out of her hands. She managed to miss him completely, though he’s stopped laughing now and is raising his shotgun.

She doesn’t know whether to try shooting him again, or try to get away, or beg for her life. Instead, she sits staring up at the barrel of his gun, unable to do anything at all.

Then a flash of red light shoots over her head. The man screams, burning up in front of her until nothing is left but a smoking pile of ashes as she watches in horror.

“Get to cover!” The voice yells again.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Judith scrambles to her feet and stumbles over to one of the piles of sandbags. She can hear the dog still barking and growling up ahead, obviously doing much better in this fight than she is. She curls up, hugging her knees, closing her eyes hard and trying to shut out the sound of gunfire still ringing behind her.

She couldn’t even shoot a simple pistol. She couldn’t defend herself against _one_ person.

She’s never going to survive this.


	3. The Young Lady Who Fell From a Star

Judith hides behind the sandbags until the gunfire stops. She hears the clicking of nails on pavement as the dog finds its way back to her, snuffling at her as though checking to see if she’s hurt. Absently, she scratches behind his ears. He licks her face as if satisfied that she’s uninjured.

“You okay out there?” The voice calls out.

She gets to her feet slowly. There’s a man standing on the balcony of the museum, gun in hand but lowered. She can’t see his face well from here, and it makes her nervous. She can’t read people unless she can see their faces. If he hasn’t shot her yet, though, he’s at least more trustworthy than the people down on the street had been. She walks closer, peering up at him.

“I’m fine,” she finally says.

“Good,” he says, and he sounds genuinely relieved. “Now, I—god, I hate to ask this, but we’re in some serious trouble in here. I’ve got a group of settlers with me, and the raiders are about to break down the door. If you think you can help, you could grab that laser musket and...but I won’t blame you if you walk away.”

She looks down at the gun—the _laser musket_ , apparently.

“I have...no idea how to use this,” she says.

The man nods with a resigned sigh. “Yeah, I figured. Well, I...I need to go before they get through. Good luck out there.” He turns and goes back inside through the balcony doors before she can respond again.

God, she feels useless. The man just saved her life—a few times over, probably—and she can do _nothing_ to help him in return.

She looks down at the dog, chewing her lip. Even if she isn’t much help alone, the dog seems to be pretty capable of taking care of himself. As she watches, he whines and paws at the door of the museum.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”

She opens the door slowly, as quietly as she can. She can already see more of the people—raiders, he’d called them?—on the second level. They haven’t noticed her yet. She creeps inside and heads for the only open door.

She winces as the automated tour clicks on and recorded voices begin shouting about the Revolutionary War. At least the raiders seem to be busy yelling insults at the settlers holed up upstairs and haven’t noticed the noise.

A few rooms later, she reaches the doorway on the other side of the gate. A raider stands on the stairs in front of her, looking at something up on the second floor. Judith swallows hard and raises her gun again. She has the time to slow down and attempt to aim now, at least.

Her hands are still shaking, but she lines up the sights as well as she can and sets her shoulders. She considers aiming for the raider’s head, but decides she’s just more likely to miss that way and aims for the chest instead.

She holds her breath and squeezes the trigger.

The raider yells as the bullet catches her in the shoulder, and the next second the dog is on her, tearing at her throat. Another raider races down the stairs towards them. Judith hurries to get a shot off at him before the dog can get in the way. It doesn’t hit, but he’s momentarily distracted, and the dog takes him down.

As she creeps towards the stairs, Judith notices something scattered on the ground near one of the bodies. Trying hard not to look at the corpse, she scoops up what turns out to be a handful of grenades. She feels around the vault suit until she finds a hidden pocket to tuck them away in. These, at least, should be fairly simple to use. Pull the pin, throw.

Of course, she’d thought using the gun would be much simpler, too.

She has her first chance to use one when she sneaks up on two raiders talking in a room together. They work about like she expected them to, thankfully. The explosion is satisfying, and the raiders don’t stand a chance. She keeps her eyes firmly on the opposite doorway as she crosses the room so she doesn’t have to look at whatever is left of the bodies.

She hears two more raiders yelling and talking to each other as she reaches the top floor, and then they’re coming her way. She presses herself to the wall next to the doorway and waits.

When the first raider turns the corner she’s ready, shooting him point blank in the chest. He falls with a grunt and doesn’t get back up. The second yells in fury and charges through the door. She fires again, hitting him in the side and knocking him back.

She squeezes her eyes shut as the dog finishes them off.

Finally, it’s silent. After a few moments, she hears a door squeak open, and then low whispers. She peeks around the door and is relieved to find the man from the balcony standing at the other end of the hallway, peering around suspiciously. The raiders seem to all be gone.

When he catches sight of Judith, his eyes widen.

“You—you actually came,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting...wow.”

“The dog did most of the work,” she admits.

“Still. It took guts coming in here. I appreciate it.”

She tucks the gun back into her belt and follows him into the room. With him are, she assumes, the settlers he mentioned.

He turns to face her again once they’re inside. “I have to ask, what’s someone like you doing wandering around out here? Not to be rude, but I can’t figure out how you’ve survived this long by yourself without knowing how to shoot a gun.”

Judith scans over him in a split second. She’s learned how to read people very well over her years of acting, hundreds of hours spent studying facial expressions and body language. She allows herself to relax a bit when she’s done. He’s as genuine as she could possibly ask for.

“I haven’t,” she says. “I mean, I just came out of the vault.”

“That _would_ explain it,” he says, glancing down at her suit as if seeing it for the first time. “So what's your name?”

_It's my dream,_ Judith thinks. _I can be whoever I want._

“Dorothy,” she says. “My name is Dorothy.”

“Well, I’m Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. Or, well, what’s left of them, anyway. As you can see, things aren’t going so well for us right now.”

She listens as he explains their situation, and then as Sturges tells her about the power armor on the roof and the fusion core downstairs that they can’t get to.

“So how am _I_ supposed to get through a security gate if you can’t?”

“Well, you could pick the lock. Or you could try hacking the computer that controls it. Either way would work.”

She chews on her lip thoughtfully. She has no idea how to pick a lock, but the computer...

“I can give it a try,” she says.

“Great,” one of the settlers snaps. Judith turns her head to see a woman maybe a bit older than herself glaring at them. “Hooray, we’re all saved, she’s going to _give it a try.”_

“Come on, Marcy. It’s a better plan than anything else we’ve got right now,” Sturges says.

“Sure. Until she breaks the lock, or locks out the computer, and then _nobody_ can get in.”

“Look, if it’s not high-security, I can probably get through the computer,” Judith says. “I used to help out a lot at the library, and I helped set the computer system up. They can’t be _too_ different.”

She stops when she realizes they’re all staring at her.

“You...did what?” Preston says.

“Oh,” Judith says. “I, um...didn’t mention that part, did I? In my vault...we were all frozen just when the bombs hit. For two hundred years, apparently. I just woke up.” She squirms uncomfortably under their stares.

“That’s incredible,” Preston finally says.

“So nobody knew how to shoot a gun straight back then?” Marcy says with a sneer.

“I was an _actress,_ ” Judith says. “I didn’t exactly have a _reason_ to know how to shoot a gun that wasn’t a prop!”

“Great. I’m sure everything will be _dandy_ now that we’ve got an actress on our side. Why don’t you go out there and _talk_ the raiders to death, then?”

“Don’t underestimate her,” an older woman says kindly from where she sits on a chair against the wall. “She’s going to do great things around here. Just give her time.”

“ _Time_ isn’t exactly something we have a lot of,” Marcy grumbles, though the fire seems to have gone out of her.

Some of the tension leaves Judith’s shoulders as Marcy turns around and stalks away to the other side of the room again, towards a man curled up on the floor staring blankly at nothing. Preston shrugs apologetically when she looks at him. She sighs and turns to leave the room when the old woman speaks again.

“She’s out there, kid, but I don’t know if you’re gonna like what you find,” she says. Judith turns around again.

“What do you mean?” She says, stepping closer.

“Your sister. She’s not the person she once was, kid. You’re gonna have to make some tough choices when you find her.”

“I don’t—how did you know about her?”

She listens as the old woman describes the Sight, how chems give her some sort of psychic visions or something, filing it away in her brain under _“more evidence this is a dream”_.

“Now, I need to rest, and you have a job to do,” the woman says, leaning back into the chair and closing her eyes. Judith looks at Preston, who just smiles.

“That’s Mama Murphy,” he says quietly when she walks over. “I know it seems crazy, but she’s usually right. I don’t know what she told you, but you should probably try to remember it.”

Judith nods, then notices Sturges watching her expectantly.

“Right,” she says. “Fusion core. Going.”

She heads down to the basement, trying not to slip on the debris. When she gets there, she boots up the computer terminal and is relieved to find it’s set up basically the same way the ones at the library were.

Now she just has to remember what she had to do the morning the head librarian had accidentally locked everyone out of the system. She closes her eyes and inhales slowly, combing back through her mind, recalling the instructions she’d been given back then like she’s reading them from a book. Years spent memorizing poetry, sheet music, and the lines to dozens of different plays have given her excellent recall, if nothing else.

When she has it, she opens her eyes again and begins typing. The dog—Dogmeat, Mama Murphy had called him, and wasn’t that a strange name—sits down patiently to watch her and wait. Five minutes of careful typing and she’s in. She unlocks the security door with a wide grin, picturing the sour look on Marcy’s face when she returns with the core.

She pulls it carefully out of the receptacle and winces as the generator groans and flickers in protest. The fusion core itself is so tiny in her hand—she can’t imagine how so much power could fit in something so small.

With a shrug, she carries it back up the stairs. When she comes back into the room, holding the fusion core up for all to see, Preston sighs in relief and smiles.

“Well, all right,” he says. “Looks like our luck is finally turning around.”

“Now, I don’t suppose you have any idea how to use power armor,” Sturges drawls. Judith raises her eyebrows and stares back at him silently. “Yeah, didn’t think so. Well, I happen to have a decent bit of experience myself. Preston, you can cover me from up here.”

“Just be careful,” Preston says quietly. “We don’t need to lose anyone else.”

“Not exactly eager to die myself, boss. All right, now if you’ll kindly give me that fusion core, we can get started.”

Judith hands it to him, watching as he leaves out the door to the other side. Preston heads for the balcony.

She fidgets, feeling useless. It doesn’t help that Marcy is staring at her again.

Finally she decides she _can’t_ just stand in here waiting while Sturges and Preston risk their lives—she needs to know what’s happening, at least. She reaches the balcony in time to see Sturges jump off the roof with a joyful whoop, landing with a loud crash.

Preston shakes his head, smile twitching at his lips. He notices her a moment later.

“You sure you want to be out here? It might get messy.”

She shrugs. She’s not sure, really, not now that she’s out here—but it’s too late now. There are more raiders in the street already. There’s a whirring as the minigun winds up, and then Sturges is spraying the street with bullets. Judith’s eyes widen and her stomach drops as the raiders are ripped apart—even from up here there’s so much _blood._ She’s just glad she can’t see the mangled bodies and disembodied limbs up close. She’s not sure she’s ever going to be ready for that. Preston shoots steadily from next to her, and she decides that she much prefers the laser weapon—at least it kills cleanly.

Then there’s a rumble, a _roar,_ and the street is shaking.

“What the—” Preston starts.

At the far end of the street, the ground erupts, throwing out dirt and chunks of pavement. When the dust clears, there’s a massive beast emerging, roaring furiously. It’s upon the nearest raider before they can even scream. Another nearby shoots at it uselessly. _Run_ , Judith thinks, forgetting for the moment that it’s an enemy out there. _Just run, get away, don’t—_

By the time the raider finally realizes they can’t win and tries to run, it’s too late. Judith can hear the sickening crunch of bone even from all the way down the street.

Judith looks at Preston, who’s staring at the creature with wide, frightened eyes. “Deathclaw,” he whispers, and as it turns and stalks towards them, she sees why. Its claws are long, sharp, wickedly curved, and its face—

Its face is like death itself.

“Sturges, get out of there!” Preston yells. Judith isn’t sure if Sturges can even hear him from inside the armor, but if he can, he’s not listening. He’s got the minigun trained on the deathclaw now, showering it with bullets as it approaches. It doesn’t even seem to be slowing the beast down. If anything, it’s only getting angrier. Preston is firing on it with the laser musket, frantically winding up his shots as fast as his arm will go. Judith watches with horror as it gets closer and closer, and then—

Then there’s a horrible silence in the street as the minigun runs out of ammo.

“Run!” Preston shouts.

Whether he can hear or not, Sturges seems to agree this time. He’s running for the doors of the museum as the thing closes in fast, roaring in fury, horrible mouth gaping open to show glistening, sharp teeth.

And just like that, Judith has an idea. A mad idea, a _terrible_ idea, but an idea.

She was thirteen when she first joined the local girls’ softball team. She had to quit to focus on her acting by the time she was seventeen, but she had been the star pitcher for four years. If she has one thing to offer right now, it’s this.

“Move!” She yells, all but shoving Preston out of the way. She can apologize later. She digs another grenade out of her suit and waits as it stomps closer and closer. _Come on,_ she thinks. _Come on, just give me an opening._

She can see the second its jaw muscles flex, and she has the pin out of the grenade in an instant. She winds up, holds her breath, and throws just as it opens its mouth to roar.

Miraculously, incredibly, _unbelievably_ , it hits home. The grenade goes straight into the monster’s mouth. It stumbles back in shock, and she could swear it looks confused.

One second, two seconds, three—

The grenade explodes, and with it goes the deathclaw’s head and most of its shoulders. The rest of it collapses to the ground, and then the street is silent and clear. Judith can feel a wild grin stretching her face, and then Preston is swinging her around by the shoulders and pulling her into a hug.

“Thank you, _thank_ you,” he says. “How did you—no, I don’t even care, that was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

Judith can’t even reply, she’s smiling too hard. It’s the first time this nightmare has felt _okay._ She finally feels like she’s not useless, not just dead weight adding to these people’s problems. She feels like a hero.

They go back inside and Preston waves for the other three to follow him down the stairs. They find Sturges sitting against the wall just inside the front door with his helmet off, panting.

“Goddamn, Preston, I never knew you had an arm like that.”

“Actually,” Preston says proudly. “That was all Dorothy here.”

“ _What_ was all Dorothy here?” Marcy says, eyes narrowed skeptically.

“Oh, nothing,” Sturges says. “Just threw a grenade straight into a deathclaw’s mouth from a hundred feet away and saved my life.”

“You’re _kidding_.”

“Swear to god,” Preston says. He turns back to Judith. “Really, I can’t thank you enough. You didn’t just save Sturges, you saved us all. We would have been trapped up here until it got through the doors, and then...well.”

Judith shrugs, still smiling, but she’s beginning to feel embarrassed by all the praise. “Just thank the raider I got the grenades from. Couldn’t have done it without her.”

Preston laughs, loud and genuine, and it’s the best sound she’s heard all day.

His good humor fades a little as the settlers argue about where they’re going next, about a place Mama Murphy calls Sanctuary, and then Preston turns to her.

“You could come with us,” he says. “I don’t know what we’re going to find, but it’s better than going off alone.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says. She’s burning to do _something_ to find Ruby, but if the day has taught her anything, it’s that she’s completely unprepared to head out on her own anywhere. She wouldn’t even know where to begin.

She follows Preston as he leads them through Concord and down the road. She realizes partway there that _Sanctuary_ is Sanctuary Hills. She’s not sure how she feels about going back there, but she has to admit it’s a much safer place for the group to settle in than Concord was.

When they get to the statue, Preston stops.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says. “It’s the monument to the original Minutemen. I knew that was somewhere around Concord. That means...this right here must be the Old North Bridge, where the first shots of the American Revolution were fired. I’d call that the best omen I’ve seen since we left Quincy.”

“By the rude bridge that arched the flood, their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,” Judith murmurs to herself.

“What?” Preston says, turning to look at her with a confused frown.

“I, ah...nothing. It’s just a poem. It’s called the Concord Hymn. It was about the Minutemen.”

She’s unprepared for the way his face lights up. “Can I hear it?”

She closes her eyes and breathes in deep for a moment, calling it to mind.

_“By the rude bridge that arched the flood,_  
_Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,_  
_Here once the embattled farmers stood,_  
_And fired the shot heard round the world._

_The foe long since in silence slept;_  
_Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;_  
_And Time the ruined bridge has swept_  
_Down the dark stream which seaward creeps._

_On this green bank, by this soft stream,_  
_We set to-day a votive stone;_  
_That memory may their deed redeem,_  
_When, like our sires, our sons are gone._

_Spirit, that made those heroes dare_  
_To die, and leave their children free,_  
_Bid Time and Nature gently spare_  
_The shaft we raise to them and thee.”_

She opens her eyes and smiles bashfully at him. “The bridge itself is a replica,” she says apologetically. “The original was dismantled. But it _is_ the right place.”

“I...” Preston swallows hard, and for a second, she wonders if he might cry. “Thank you. That was...just, thanks.”

He looks up at the monument for another minute. When he looks back at her and nods, there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He leads them on over the bridge, holding himself a little straighter, his steps more sure.

Sturges claps her on the shoulder as he passes and squeezes silently before moving on after Preston.

“You see? You’ll find your place out here,” Mama Murphy says from behind her. “Not in spite of your gifts, but because of them. You wait and see.”

Looking ahead to where Preston stands, surveying the town with his head held high, she can almost find it in herself to believe that. She almost forgets, for a moment, that it’s all a dream.

She pauses this time as she passes the spot where their house stood. She wonders if there’s anything left in there, buried for all these years, that she could recover. She doesn’t notice Sturges walking up behind her.

“So,” he says. When she turns, she finds him twirling a hammer in his hand. “I don’t suppose you have any construction experience.” It’s obvious he’s joking by the lopsided smile on his face, but she grins back, a little smug.

“ _Actually,_ I did help out quite a lot with set building at the theater. I might need some guidance on what you want me to build, but I can use a hammer and saw just fine.”

He laughs. “Well, now, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? First thing’s first—we need some beds. We’ve been sleeping on the ground for too long.” He leads her to the workbenches, and she grabs a hammer of her own. He clicks on a radio he must have found in one of the houses, and miraculously, it still works. An upbeat song fills the air.

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey bethesda, remember how you decided power armor requires training to use? do you remember that?? i remember that.
> 
> also sturges is fun as hell to write


	4. Oh, What a World

The first thing they build is not, in fact, a bed. It’s a wagon.

Because why build beds from scratch when you could salvage them?

They find four tires in decent condition and scrap some parts of the collapsed houses—not Judith’s, not yet—to make a sturdy, low wagon. After that, they patch the hole in the bridge with some metal siding so the wagon can cross it with relative ease.

When they get to Concord, they spread out after making sure the place is still clear of raiders. Preston and Sturges break down the boarded-up doors and carry beds down to the wagon. The rest of them pick through houses for useful things—food especially, considering it’s going to take a while for them to get some crops going, even if plants have become remarkably fast-growing after years of radiation. Dogmeat, surprisingly, points things out to Judith that she might have otherwise missed. He’s eerily smart for a dog, she thinks.

They have six beds and a decent haul of food and scrap back in Sanctuary by the time the sun is setting. In the last rays of sunlight, they set the beds up in the houses that are still standing as Codsworth watches them silently from the street. Marcy and Jun—the nervous, quiet man who is apparently her husband—set up in one house, Sturges and Mama Murphy in another, and Preston and Judith take the last two beds.

Judith is sweaty and tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. It reminds her of how she always feels when she gets home after a grueling rehearsal.

She’s been forgetting, with everything that’s happened, that it’s just a dream she’s in, but when they turn in for bed she remembers it more clearly than ever.

What happens if you go to sleep in a dream? Will this be what finally wakes her up?

“So,” Preston says as he slips his boots off. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard Mama Murphy say something about a sister?”

“Yeah,” Judith says, scratching Dogmeat behind the ears as he jumps up onto the bed and lies down at the end. “Ruby. We were both supposed to be in that vault together, but...she wasn’t home, and I was.”

He frowns. “But Mama Murphy says she’s still alive?”

“And so did that robot outside—Codsworth. It said she’d been here in the last decade, at least.”

“How is that possible?”

She shrugs one shoulder, lying down and staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe she somehow got in the vault after I did? Or...I don’t know. I mean, I still feel like this is all one big dream. I guess I haven’t stopped to question it much.”

“That’s understandable,” he says, lying down himself. “You know...she could be a ghoul.”

She frowns and turns her head to look towards him, though she can barely see his outline in the dark. “What’s a ghoul?”

“That’s right, I forgot. You wouldn’t know what they are. Ghouls are...irradiated people. They _look_ messed up, but most of them are just like you and me. There are some that aren’t—ferals are more like monsters. The radiation rotted their brains. In any case, the mutations they go through change the way their bodies regenerate. They live for a long time—most ghouls were around before the war. They might actually be immortal. Nobody knows. No ghoul has died of old age yet, anyway. They don’t need to eat or drink either, as long as there’s some radiation around. Some don’t need to sleep. I’m not sure any of them do, honestly. Most of them might be doing it out of habit.”

“What do you mean they look messed up?”

“Their nose and ears sort of...fall off, and their skin changes. Some of them just look like they’ve been burned badly and are covered in scar tissue. Others get whole patches of skin flaking off and end up with a lot of exposed muscle and bone. I guess it affects different people differently.”

Judith frowns. “That sounds terrible.”

“It can be. A lot of people treat them pretty badly. I don’t understand it, myself. They’re just trying to survive like the rest of us.”

“Codsworth would have _told_ me if she was a ghoul, though.”

“Would he? I mean, hasn’t he been waiting around in Sanctuary by himself for the last two hundred years? If she _is_ a ghoul, she might be the only one he’s ever seen.”

She’s silent for a long time, turning the new information over in her head.

“We could ask him,” Preston says gently. “Maybe if we describe what ghouls look like...”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she says firmly. “I have to find her. She’s my _sister._ I don’t care what she looks like.”

“Now that’s an attitude more people should have.” She can hear the smile in his voice, and she thinks he sounds proud of her.

She feels her cheeks warm. “Well,” she says, embarrassed, “we should get some sleep.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We have a lot to do in the morning. I was thinking we could bring back some of the mannequins from the museum and maybe I could start teaching you how to shoot.”

“That would be great,” she says. “If I don’t wake up first, I mean.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Dorothy.”

She feels a twinge of guilt, but she can’t correct him _now._ What would she even say when he asked her why she lied?

“Goodnight, Preston,” she says instead, and turns over on her side.

She can’t get comfortable, though. She’s used to having a pile of pillows to nestle into, and at least two warm blankets in the fall and winter. She curls up into a ball, teeth chattering. The only part of her that’s even slightly warm is her feet, where they’re buried in Dogmeat’s fur.

A few minutes later, she hears movement from the other side of the room, then footsteps. The next thing she knows, a coat is being laid over her. It’s warm, and it smells like gunpowder and leather.

“Thank you,” she whispers as she listens to Preston climb back into bed.

“Of course,” he says, trailing off into a yawn. He’s snoring a couple minutes later.

Even with the warmth of Preston’s coat, it takes her a long, long time to fall asleep.

—

 _Cold_.

Maybe this time, she’s really waking up. Maybe it’s finally over, and she’ll sit up on the couch and say _oh, Ruby, I had the strangest dream,_ and Ruby will ask her what it was about as she sets the table for dinner.

 _So cold._ She’s cold all over despite the blanket lying over her.

Except the blanket doesn’t feel like a blanket, now that she’s stirring. And it doesn’t smell like their floral laundry soap, it smells like...like gunpowder and leather.

She hears a yawn and the creaking of a mattress, and when she opens her eyes the world is still broken. She can see through a hole in the wall into the street as Sturges walks by, stretching his arms.

She closes her eyes again and whimpers.

“Hey,” Preston mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “You okay?”

“I’m,” she starts, voice cracking. “I’m still here,” she says. “I’m _still here._ I shouldn’t be...I _shouldn’t—”_

Then she’s crying, letting go for the first time since she fell out of that pod. The mattress shifts as Preston sits next to her, and she sits up and lets him pull her into a hug. She sobs into his shoulder until her eyes burn and her chest aches. Preston just strokes her hair gently, holding her tight. He’s murmuring something, but she can’t hear what. It doesn’t really matter as long as he doesn’t stop. At some point Dogmeat wriggles closer, pressing his head onto her lap and whining softly.

Eventually, her breathing begins to steady, and then she just feels wrung out. When she looks up, he’s watching her sadly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For what it’s worth, I wish it was a dream. I’m sorry this all happened to you.”

She can’t speak yet, and he seems to understand. They sit there for a long time, Judith at least finally feeling warm tucked up against his side. After a while, her stomach growls loudly. Preston chuckles.

“We’d better get some food in you. Maybe you’ll feel a little better after breakfast.”

She doesn’t think so, not at all, but she nods. She feels terrible, seeing the heartbroken look on his face and knowing it’s for her sake. She starts to shrug his coat off until he stops her.

“You hold onto that until it warms up a bit outside. We’ll find you something to wear later that’s warmer than that vault suit.”

She smiles gratefully and slips her arms into the sleeves properly. She follows him out of the house and down the street to where Mama Murphy is sitting next to a cooking pot, heating up a pot of pork and beans. There are some chipped bowls and old spoons in a pile next to her alongside the empty tin cans.

Preston grabs two bowls and fills them up, handing one to Judith before eating his own. She stares down at it for a minute before tucking in, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly as it starts to warm her from the inside out.

Truthfully, she really does feel a little better after eating. She doesn’t want to admit he was right, but when she looks up at him he’s smiling knowingly. She fights the urge to stick her tongue out at him. That’s what she would have done to Ruby, after all.

It suddenly hits her that she’s only known Preston for a day—less than a day, really—and already she’s starting to feel like she’s found some long-lost big brother. It feels nice to have someone watching out for her and caring for her like Ruby always did, and he seems to have taken to her the same way she has to him.

She wonders if Ruby and Preston will get along well when they find her. She hopes so.

“How we all doing this morning?” Sturges says cheerfully as he approaches the group. If he notices Judith’s withdrawn appearance and quietness, he doesn’t say anything. “I figure we’ll start digging a couple wells today while Marcy and Jun work on planting some crops.”

“Sounds good,” Preston says. He walks off with Sturges, and Judith faintly hears him describing his plan to retrieve the mannequins.

“You’ve found a good friend in him,” Mama Murphy says.

“Yeah,” Judith says, voice still rough. She clears her throat. “I’m figuring that out, I think. I got pretty lucky.”

“Oh, kid. Luck’s got nothing to do with it. It’s your _destiny._ There are so many others tangled up with your story, and they all play an important part. He’s only the first.”

Judith frowns. “Is this more of that...Sight stuff?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth.”

Judith sighs. She doesn’t know what to say to that, but Mama Murphy seems content to let the conversation end.

A few minutes later Preston and Sturges come back.

“Sturges is going to figure out the placement for the wells while we go back to Concord,” Preston says. “We shouldn’t run into any trouble, but I have my flare gun if we do.”

Sturges waves them off as they go, Judith dragging the wagon behind them. Preston had tried, at first, to insist he should take it. After she pointed out that he knows how to use a weapon and she doesn’t, and that he would need his hands free, he reluctantly agreed. Dogmeat stays behind, sticking close to Mama Murphy.

It's not so bad downhill, at least, though she nearly runs over her own feet a few times. They reach Concord in wary silence, and Preston checks around the town before finally relaxing.

"Let's check the houses for some better clothes for you first," he says, then grins. "Unless you want to wear one of the costumes from the mannequins."

This time, she really does stick her tongue out at him. He throws his head back and laughs. She finds that she likes the sound of his laughter more and more every time she hears it.

She heads for the nearest house, Preston trailing behind, smile still on his face. She goes upstairs to rifle through the dressers while he double checks to make sure they didn’t leave anything useful behind in the kitchen.

The first thing she finds is a soft, almost silky dress, miraculously preserved and still folded neatly. It might need some ironing to get the 200-year-old wrinkles out before it’s wearable, but it looks like it’s her size.

She holds the pale blue dress up to her arm, admiring the contrast against the dark brown of her skin. Preston peeks his head in the door.

“That’s...pretty,” he says hesitantly. “But it’s not going to protect you at all, or be very warm.”

“I know,” she says with a sigh. “I can still save it, right? Maybe I’ll get a chance to use it sometime.”

“Sure,” he says softly. “Whatever you want.”

He tries the dresser on the other side of the room. Judith hears him snort and turns around to look.

Preston is holding up a set of old, slightly yellow long johns with a cheesy grin on his face. She tries very hard to frown at him, but she can’t hold it for long and ends up laughing instead.

“What? They’d be warm!” He laughs too, dropping them back into the dresser.

They move onto the next house, then the next, finding nothing but more pre-war dresses and suits. Preston frowns and shakes his head to each, though Judith tucks a few more pretty things into the wagon anyway. Finally, they stop in the street again, and Preston sighs and turns to her.

"I know it'll probably make you uncomfortable, and I was hoping we wouldn't have to, but we might need to just recover something from one of the raiders."

She stares back at him. "That's...Preston, we can't steal from the _dead!_ That's wrong!"

He shrugs, though he looks a little apologetic at least. "That's just the way things work nowadays, Dorothy. Resources are scarce, and you loot what you can, whether it’s from a friend or an enemy. It’s basic survival."

She's silent for a long time, chewing her lip and staring down at the pavement.

"If it makes you feel better," he says softly, "You can wait in the museum while I look around. You don't have to watch."

She knows she's being ridiculous, but she nods anyway and walks away. What he said makes sense, of course, but that doesn't change how it makes her feel. How is she going to be able to wear clothes that had only just been wrapped around a dead body, anyway? Just the thought makes her shudder.

She stares at the mannequins in pensive silence until he comes in after her, and they carry a few out to the wagon together.

"Can I see what you found?" She asks as they start back towards Sanctuary.

He hesitates. "Let me wash them first, okay? They're...a little dirty."

Dirty? Why would he not want her to see if they were... _oh._

"You mean bloody," she says.

He winces and nods.

She's afraid she might throw up for a second. She closes her eyes and breathes slowly through her nose, letting the wave of nausea pass. She opens them again when Preston rests a hand on her shoulder.

"Okay," she finally says. "Let's go."

He squeezes gently before taking the lead again.

When they get back, Dogmeat greets her with a happy bark and falls into step beside her. Sturges has not only marked out the placing for a couple of wells, he's turned some wooden beams and metal siding into workable shovels. Preston puts away the things he recovered from Concord, including some extra guns and ammunition, and then they join Sturges. It’s hard to stay somber with the radio blasting and Sturges rambling pleasantly about nothing as they dig. Dogmeat sprawls out to watch them in the sun nearby like a spoiled house pet.

Her hands are sore after the first ten minutes, beginning to blister after twenty, but as soon as she starts to get seriously frustrated Mama Murphy is at her elbow, asking if she can come help her with lunch. Judith knows what she’s trying to do, and she feels more than a little coddled, but she’s grateful at the same time. The most strenuous workout her hands usually get is playing her piano. This is completely out of her depth.

She tries to make herself useful, though Mama Murphy doesn’t actually need much help. Somehow she’s turned a can of Cram, a few stale vegetables and some water—apparently provided by Codsworth, who isn’t speaking to anyone but seems to be trying to make itself useful—into a decent-looking stew. They all end up sitting on overturned buckets and piles of old tires around the cooking fire, eating quietly.

—

After lunch, Jun approaches her.

“Hey, do you have a moment?”

She doesn’t answer right away, shocked to hear him speak. He still looks frightened and tense, like a single harsh word from her would send him running into the woods.

“Yeah, of course,” she says softly.

“I wanted to thank you for helping us out in Concord. If only we’d run into you sooner...”

She sees Marcy over his shoulder, arms crossed and glaring at her. Does the woman seriously think Judith is going to make a move on her husband?

“My son, he’s...he’s gone,” Jun is saying when she looks back at him.

“Oh no,” Judith whispers. “I’m...I’m so, so sorry.”

He looks away. “I just keep thinking...maybe I could have done more.”

Judith takes a deep breath. “I didn’t know your son,” she says softly, carefully. “I wish I did. But I know if something happened to me, and my ma was still alive...I’d want her to keep living, to make the best of things. I wouldn’t want her to blame herself. Bad things just happen sometimes, and sometimes you do everything you possibly can and still lose. But you still have Marcy, and...you have us now. It’s never going to be the same without him, and you won’t forget him, but it’ll be good again someday. I promise.”

There are tears on his cheeks, but he’s making real eye contact with her now, which is a first.

“You’re right, I know,” he says. “It’s just...hard.”

She nods silently. She badly wants to hug him, but she’s not sure he’d take that well. Marcy might not take it well, for that matter.

He gives her a watery, weak smile. “Anyway, thanks again.”

She watches him walk back towards the spot he and Marcy have been setting up the crops. She doesn’t notice Marcy walking up to her until she speaks.

“You even can’t imagine what it’s like.”

“No, I can’t,” Judith says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Marcy is silent for a minute. “They promised,” she hisses. “The Minutemen, they _promised_ they were going to protect us. But they abandoned us, or died, and now...”

“Preston didn’t,” Judith says quickly, almost offended on his behalf.

Marcy scoffs. “Yeah, of course _he_ didn’t. He thinks he can save the whole goddamn world by himself.” Her face softens and she sighs bitterly. “But we wouldn’t be here without him. Or you, I guess. So...thanks. I’m not gonna say it again.”

Judith reaches out to put a comforting hand on Marcy’s back, but stops when she sees Marcy’s shoulders tense, her eyes narrow and wary. She takes her hand back.

“We should get back to work,” she says instead, and Marcy looks relieved.

“Yeah,” she says. “Enough sitting on our asses.”

Preston stops Judith before she can head back to the wells.

“Sturges can take care of the digging for a little while,” he says. “I think it’s time I started teaching you how to use your gun properly.”

She grins back, relieved at the thought of some time with just Preston again. She likes all of the others well enough—even Marcy, now that she understands her a little better—but something about Preston is just comfortable, almost familiar. Safe.

She’s confused, though, when he leads her inside one of the buildings instead of down to the riverbank where the mannequins had been unloaded.

“First thing’s first,” he says, pulling out a relatively intact chair in front of an old dining table for her. “You aren’t going to shoot that gun until you know how to take it apart, clean it, put it back together, load it, and unload it.”

She stares as he sits across from her.

“If you don’t take care of your weapon, it won’t take care of you,” he says, almost chidingly.

She frowns thoughtfully. “That makes sense, I think. It’s the same with instruments.”

“You used to play an instrument?”

“Used to,” she echoes as an unexpected pain stabs through her heart. “Yeah. I played the piano and the flute. I guess...I guess I’m probably not going to find any intact pianos to play anymore, am I? I’m going to get rusty.” She forces a laugh.

His expression softens. “You never know. Anything could happen.”

“Maybe,” she says, ready to be done with the subject. “So, teacher, where do I start?”

—

They practice until sundown. Her hands are sorer than ever, and Mama Murphy ends up wrapping them up with cloth soaked in...something. She won’t say what, but Judith finds she doesn’t really care when the pain immediately begins to subside.

They eat dinner together again before retreating to their beds, where Preston talks about the Minutemen and tells her the stories he grew up with until she falls asleep, Dogmeat curled up at her feet again.

It’s a week before he lets her actually shoot the gun. By that time the crops have been planted, one of the wells is dug and they’ve all celebrated their first bucket of clean, pure water.

They get as far away from the houses as they can while still keeping Sanctuary in sight. Dogmeat is left with Mama Murphy again. Judith knows he’s a smart dog and doubts he’d get in the way, but she’d never forgive herself if she hurt him. Preston marks out about fifteen feet from the mannequins and scuffs a line into the dirt with his boot.

Preston takes the gun first. “Okay, watch me,” he says as he demonstrates. “You want to plant your feet firmly and get a good, grounded stance. You can’t shoot straight if you’re off balance. Try to keep your feet about shoulder width apart. If you can get lower, or even brace yourself against something, even better.”

He raises the gun to point at one of the mannequins. “You’re going to want to keep holding the gun in both hands for now. It’s going to take some time and practice before you can shoot one-handed. Hold your arms steady, but don’t keep them too tense. If they’re too stiff, your breathing, every little movement you make, or even your pulse can mess up your aim.”

He hands the gun over to her and helps her get into position. “Now you line the sights up. You want the front sight to be right in the center between the rear sights, and you want the tops level. Every gun is going to shoot a little differently, so you’ll want to try to practice with any new gun you pick up for a while before you use it in a fight, if you can. For now, you want to aim at their torso. Don’t go for any fancy headshots. It’s better to hit them in the chest than not at all. No, keep both eyes open. I’m not letting you learn bad habits.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, but obeys. “Now can I shoot the evil mannequins?”

“Okay. Turn off the safety. Now keep breathing through it, focus on your target, and squeeze the trigger—don’t pull it too hard or jerk it back, just squeeze until it shoots.”

She takes a deep breath, trying not to shake—doesn’t know why she’s so nervous, knows her life isn’t on the line this time, but something about having this little killing machine in her hands makes her feel uncomfortably powerful.

She runs through a checklist of the things he’s told her in her head while he waits patiently. When she’s finally satisfied she’s got it all, she breathes deep and slow, looks down the sights at the left side of the mannequin’s chest where the heart would be, and squeezes.

The bullet tears through the mannequin’s right shoulder.

Preston lets out a whoop. “Nice job!”

She frowns, lowering the weapon slightly. “But that’s not where I was aiming.”

“But you hit your target. That’s great for a first try, Dorothy. The most important thing is to hit your enemy at all—even if it’s not exactly where you want it. A shot that doesn’t do much damage can still knock them off balance and ruin the shot they’re lining up on _you._ Every hit counts.”

She smiles a little. “Why do you have to go and be all reasonable about it?” She teases.

He just grins and shakes his head. “Let’s do it again.”

They spend a few hours at it, going until her arms ache. They break for lunch, then help Marcy and Jun at the farm for a while, then help Sturges with his pet project of setting up guard towers around the bridge. Judith’s not sure why, considering there are only six of them.

“Don’t you worry,” Mama Murphy reassures her from where she watches them work in her chair when she voices this thought aloud. “More will come. You’ll bring them to us.”

“Me?” Judith frowns.

“You, kid. You’re going to be the guiding star. Just you wait.”

Sturges just shrugs, though Preston watches Judith thoughtfully for a while after that.

—

They spend the next week working on Judith’s aim and speed while still practicing her gun care. She’s finally settling in, feeling like she’s found a sort of home again here with her friends, when Mama Murphy approaches her one afternoon looking sad.

“I’m sorry, kid, but it’s time.”

Judith frowns, wiping the sweat off her brow with a dirty hand. “Time for what?”

“Time for you to go. They’re out there waiting for you, and they can’t wait much longer.”

“ _Who_ is waiting for me?”

“I’m sorry, kid. I can’t see any more than that. Maybe if I had some jet, but...”

“Mama Murphy, _no._ That stuff is gonna kill you,” Preston scolds her. Judith tunes out the rest of their conversation, trying not to panic. She knows what she saw in Concord is only the beginning of the horrors waiting out in the world for her, and despite the rigorous practicing she’s been putting in and the progress she’s made, she feels completely unprepared for real combat.

When she looks up again, Mama Murphy is gone and Preston is looking down at her, stricken.

“Preston...I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers.

He opens his mouth and closes it again, then rubs a hand over his face in frustration. “Dammit,” he says. “She’s always been right before, but I don’t see how this is anything but sending you to your death. And I can’t...you know I can’t go with you and leave everyone here behind.”

“I know,” she whispers. They’d be virtually defenseless without him.

“I don’t want you to go either,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, trying not to cry. He holds out his hand to help her up, then walks with her in silence to the house that’s been theirs for two weeks. They go through Judith’s things, deciding what she should and shouldn’t take with her, figuring out what she can fit into the little bag they found for her to sling around her hips and the pockets of the new clothes that Codsworth thankfully washed completely free of bloodstains.

Dinner is quiet, and Judith keeps catching the others watching her. Dogmeat lies at her feet, pressing his head against her leg comfortingly.

“It’s not gonna be the same,” Preston says as they lie awake in the dark that night. “Now I’m only gonna have Sturges to talk to all day.”

She giggles a little despite herself. “What, you don’t feel like hanging out with Marcy?”

He huffs, and she’s sure he’d be glaring at her if he could see her.

A long time passes before he speaks again. “Take care of yourself. Please. I’ve...I’ve already lost a lot of people, and I don’t think I could stand to lose you, too.”

“You wouldn’t know,” she says before thinking about it.

“That’s...really not helpful,” he grumbles.

“Oh, god. I’m sorry. But...Mama Murphy seems confident I’ll be okay, right?”

He sighs. “I guess.”

It’s a long time before she falls asleep, almost as long as their first night here. She doesn’t even know where she’s going to go tomorrow. The only thing she knows is that she’ll be looking for Ruby, and she has no idea where to start with that. The world is an entirely different place than it was when she knew it.

She hopes, for the first time since that first night, that she’ll wake up from the dream before dawn.

—

She’s not surprised this time, at least, when she wakes up and the world is just the same. She eats breakfast with the others, then changes into her new clothes and packs her things. They insist on loading her up with food, no matter how much she protests that they’ll need it.

Preston can’t stop giving her last-minute advice as she walks towards the bridge for the last time. “Just...avoid fighting if you can. I know you know how to be quiet and step lightly. Use that to your advantage. Don’t be afraid to loot whatever you find, _please._ You’ll need all the supplies you can get. But be careful exploring old houses and buildings, there’s always a good chance they’ll be full of raiders. Stick to the streets when you can. If you...”

“ _Preston.”_

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been repeating yourself for an hour. I got it.”

He sighs. “I know, I know. I’m just worried.”

She lets him pull her in for a tight hug. He holds her for a long time, and she could swear she feels him shaking a little. Finally he presses a kiss to the top of her head as Dogmeat runs up to meet them, followed more slowly by Mama Murphy.

“You take care of her, now,” she says to the dog.

“He’s going with me? But he’s _your_ dog,” Judith protests.

Mama Murphy laughs. “He’s not anybody’s dog. He’s his own man. But he’ll stick with you, now. I saw it.”

Judith doesn’t want to admit how much better it makes her feel that she won’t be completely alone. Even Preston looks a little happier at the news.

“I still don’t even know where I’m going,” she sighs.

Mama Murphy smiles. “Oh, I don’t even need the Sight to tell you where to start. Diamond City, the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. No better place to start looking for something lost.”

“Here, let me see that,” Preston says, grabbing her arm and clicking around on the Pip-Boy. She’d almost forgotten it was even there. She hasn’t used it since she left the vault.

“There,” he says. “That should give you an idea of how to find it, at least.”

When she looks, she discovers there’s a map built into it, and Preston has set a marker in the middle of what used to be downtown Boston. She really should have spent more time figuring out how to use the thing.

Sturges, Jun, and even Marcy come to see her off too, Sturges giving her a nearly rib-crushing hug. Marcy just nods at her firmly, but Judith understands.

Just as she turns to leave, Jun finally speaks.

“I...I hope you find your sister,” he says.

She smiles back at him softly. “Thanks.”

After that, she knows she can’t stall any longer. It’s time to go. She crosses the bridge and stops, looking back at them and then around the settlement one more time, memorizing it to hold in her heart for later. She’s going to need it.

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath and looking down at Dogmeat. “Off to Emerald City, boy. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks 2 my wife for enduring like a dozen questions about guns this week because i don't know shit about them ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> come see me on tumblr @ [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu)!


	5. Lions and Tigers and Bears

It starts raining before they even reach the Red Rocket. She grumbles and glares up at the sky, automatically trying to flatten her hand over her hair against the inevitable frizzing. Dogmeat seems to enjoy it, though, jumping around and chasing his tail for a minute. She can’t help but smile. At least one of them is in a good mood, anyway.

She sighs and pulls up her Pip-Boy to check where they’re going before they continue. If she’s reading the map right—which she may well not be, it’s an absolute mess of roads with no real indication where anything is—she should be able to head east a short ways until she finds the railroad tracks, then follow them south to get to the city. It’s as good a plan as any.

She skirts around the edge of Concord, really not wanting to see the bodies in the street again if she can avoid it. Dogmeat trots after her. She pauses for a moment as they pass one of those bushes with bright purple flowers—Hubflowers, Preston had called them—and plucks one on a whim. She tucks it snugly behind her ear.

She continues in slightly better spirits after that. It may be the end of the world, but she’d still like to feel a little pretty sometimes.

After a few minutes, she catches herself humming and laughs at herself. _Follow the yellow brick road,_ indeed. She has the sudden urge to start skipping.

Then she hears the growl.

She ducks down instantly, heart pounding. Dogmeat’s ears flatten against his head as he stares at something off to the side of the road.

Judith stays absolutely still, breathing as quietly as she can. She can’t see what it is out there through the bushes, but it sounds... _big._

Then it stomps a little closer, and she covers her mouth with a hand to keep from screaming.

It’s—it’s _like_ a bear, but mangy and deformed. She doesn’t know what to call it, but she knows she doesn’t want to catch its attention. Even Dogmeat wouldn’t be able to take down something like that.

She creeps along the opposite edge of the road, barely breathing, keeping an eye on the bear-thing until it’s finally out of sight and she can let herself breathe.

She’s trying not to break down already. A large part of her wants to run right back to Sanctuary. That monster could have ripped her right in half, and she would have been done for before her journey had even begun.

 _There’s no place like home,_ she thinks wildly.

They wouldn’t even be disappointed in her, really. Preston would be, if anything, overjoyed to see her back. Mama Murphy might scold her, but if she told Preston about the thing she’d almost run into he might never let her leave again.

Except Ruby’s still waiting out there for her somewhere. She might be in trouble, even, from the way Mama Murphy was talking about “ _them”_ not being able to wait much longer for her.

It’s still hard to make herself continue walking, and she moves slower now, watching her surroundings much more carefully. She can’t forget herself again.

She hears rustling and low mooing a little way down the road, but Dogmeat seems unconcerned. When she finally sees them, though, she gasps.

Two heads. The cows have _two heads_ now.

They don’t seem aggressive, at least, but they make her feel a little sick to look at. She shakes her head and follows as Dogmeat walks on ahead.

They pass the Starlight Drive-In, and her heart suddenly aches. Danny took her there on her very first date, back when she was 17. God, she’d been so nervous. And all she’d had to worry about back then was whether he’d try to kiss her or not. It seemed ridiculous in retrospect—she’d give anything for that to be the worst of her problems again.

She stares at it for a while in silence, rain pattering around her, until Dogmeat whines.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she whispers. “What’s past is past. Let’s go.”

The sun finally comes out from behind the clouds again as they reach the railroad tracks and climb up the little incline. They follow the track south, almost losing it a few times, as overgrown as it is, but her Pip-Boy manages to keep her on the right path. She idly combs her fingers through her damp curls, trying to work out the tangles as she walks without dislodging her flower, though it’s not like anyone’s around to see what a mess she is right now. God, but she used to be so proud of her hair. It nearly broke her heart to discover that nobody used conditioner anymore, and she’d have to make do washing her hair with the same lye-based soap she was expected to use on her skin.

She’s considering the merits of attempting to condition her hair with beer like she’s heard some girls do when she hears growling again. This time, it sounds like more than one creature, and it’s coming from up ahead—right in her way. She drops down low, checking her gun to make sure it’s ready. She hears barking, then, and relaxes a little bit.

Dogs, then. Nothing too dangerous. Even if they’re aggressive, she can probably scare them off with a warning shot or two. She straightens up again, more confident, and keeps going.

When she finally sees them, she freezes. There’s more of them than she thought, and they look...feral, almost. Wild. The way they hold themselves reminds her more of wolves than dogs.

Then they see her.

They’re charging before she knows it, snarling and barking ferociously. She automatically drops to one knee and aims, firing at the closest dog. She doesn’t have time to be amazed that she’s actually fighting instead of panicking.

The shot doesn’t scare them off like she’d hoped it would, but it hits, and the dog goes down. Dogmeat charges in and takes on two more of them, leaving Judith to deal with the last two that are already circling her and growling. She breathes, aims—and then one lunges at her, and she’s unprepared. It knocks her onto her back, and she yelps in pain and surprise. She can hear the other one closing in now that she’s pinned. She shoves the gun under the dog’s chin and fires, wincing and turning her head as blood splatters over her and the ground around her.

The other dog actually manages to sink its teeth into her shirt, but the thick material prevents it from piercing through. She shoots this one in the head, too, looking firmly away as it drops. Dogmeat is trotting back to her with his head high, so he must have done alright. She takes a moment to try to wipe the blood off of herself, not succeeding in doing much more than smudging it into her clothes. She eventually settles for just wiping her face off with a clean section of sleeve. The flower in her hair is gone, knocked loose at some point during the fight. She doesn’t feel like stopping to look for it.

They walk away a bit until she can’t see the bodies anymore before she sits down on the ground and curls up, arms around her knees.

She just _killed_ those dogs. Dogs that could have, years ago maybe, been someone’s pets. She bites her lip to try to keep from crying. Dogmeat sits down next to her, pressing against her side. She puts her arm around him and nuzzles her face into his warm, slightly damp fur.

“Thanks, boy,” she sighs. “You always know just what to say.”

It’s another few minutes before she can put the fight out of her mind enough to continue. There’s a part of the track she has to go around, overturned train cars and old irradiated barrels Preston has told her to avoid blocking the path, but otherwise they don’t run into any more trouble. Then they cross one more hill, and she can finally see it— _Boston._ What’s left of it, anyway. The river sparkles below in the sunlight, and she almost feels like smiling. She’s made it further than she’d thought she would, really, though she still has a long way to go, and navigating downtown is probably going to be a nightmare.

She feels very exposed as she crosses the bare bridge, but nothing seems to be around to catch sight of her. She sneaks a few glances down at the river as they go. She’d always loved it in an abstract sort of way, but she never really stopped to enjoy it before. She’s regretting all the things she used to take for granted now.

They continue on towards the road that her map says will take them east into the city. She doesn’t dare cross through the open fields and wooded areas by herself. Preston had told her to stick to the roads, and she’s going to do exactly that.

It’s uneventful until they reach more overturned train cars, and Dogmeat starts growling and his ears flatten back again. She looks around and sees nothing, frowning in confusion.

“What is it, boy?” She whispers. “Show me.”

At the command, he charges forward, lunging for—a corpse? No, it’s moving, it’s standing up—

Oh, _god,_ it’s hideous, and it’s coming straight for her. She screams before she can stop herself. She hears groaning, rustling, and then there are two more corpses rising from the bushes.

She runs blindly into the trees away from them. “Dogmeat, _run!_ Come on!”

She hears him whine, and then the sound of his paws as he gallops after her. She can still hear the walking corpses following, gurgling and shambling through the underbrush, but it sounds like they’re falling behind.

By the time she’s out of breath and needs to stop, they’re gone. She collapses to her knees.

“What were _those?”_ She says, staring at Dogmeat with wide eyes. They were like people, but not—they were mutated, distorted, they—

Oh, god, those must be the feral ghouls. No wonder Preston had called them _monsters_. Did they all look like that, even the normal ones? Is _that_ what Ruby’s going to look like when Judith finds her?

She buries her face in her hands for a minute before shaking her head. She won’t know unless she finds her, and she’s not _going_ to find her at the rate she’s been moving. She needs to get a grip. She gets up again, checking her Pip-Boy and finding the road again, pleased to find she was running in the right direction, at least, and it’s just a little south of them.

They finally reach the outskirts of the town, and she winces when she hears the distant sounds of gunfire.

“It’s definitely too late to turn back now, right?” She sighs, looking down at Dogmeat. He whines and wags his tail.

She sets her shoulders and moves on. They stick to the river for as long as they can, until they finally reach the road that looks like it should lead them straight into Diamond City on her map.

She turns the corner and walks straight into a group of raiders.

They all stand still for a moment in shock, staring at each other, until one of the raiders grins.

“Well, _hello_ there, girlie,” he says.

She runs.

She doesn’t know where she’s going, can’t stop to look at her map, but she can hear their laughter and footsteps behind her. A shot rings out, and a bullet whizzes past her to hit the pavement.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she whimpers as she runs.

 _Zig-zag,_ Preston says in her head. _Make yourself a hard target to hit._

It’s difficult advice to follow when she’s already busy working on running as fast as she can, but she tries. She’s grateful for it when another bullet flies past right where she’d been a moment before.

She turns a corner at random, hoping to lose them, then another. Just when she thinks she might be in the clear, she hears another yell, and whips her head to the side to see _another_ group of raiders heading in her direction.

“Oh my _god,_ ” she groans as they start to give chase too. “I’m going to die.”

She takes another turn, knowing she’s probably going to run into another group of enemies, not knowing what else to do. She knows she must be wildly off track now, has no idea how she’s going to get back to Diamond City. She was so _close._

She doesn’t know how much longer she can run. Her sides are killing her, and her steps are faltering. If she stops, she knows she’s dead. If she _falls,_ she’s dead.

She ducks down an alley, through a gap in some metal barricades, and then—

She freezes, staring in horror at the gargantuan beasts before her.

Oh, god, are _these_ the ghouls? They’re enormous, bright green, teeth bared in vicious snarls. They stare back at her for a moment before roaring furiously, raising their guns.

She takes off back through the hole she’d come through, whimpering under her breath as she hears them stomp after her. She tries another road, stumbling and nearly falling as she runs over a pile of debris, splashing through a puddle and turning another corner. Then she sees it—a sign, neon red and blue, reading _Goodneighbor_ with an arrow pointing to the right _._ As she gets closer, she reads in smaller print below it the words _“All are welcome.”_ She turns to the right and keeps going until she reaches a door with another sign over it. She can still hear those things yelling behind her.

There’s nowhere else to go, and she _can’t_ keep running. She can barely even breathe. This is her last chance. If she goes through this door and runs into another group of raiders, she’ll just sit down and wait to die. She can’t do this anymore. She lurches forward, opens the door, and stumbles inside. Dogmeat slips in with her.

She shuts the door behind her and collapses against it, panting.

When she looks up, a handful of people are standing around staring at her. She whimpers and closes her eyes.

Nobody starts shooting. Nobody, in fact, does anything for a long time. When she opens her eyes again, most of the people have gone back to their business, but a man in a leather jacket is approaching.

“Well, what do we have here?” He says, grinning and lighting a cigarette. “Newcomer, huh? You know, you don’t look so good, friend.”

“Please,” she whimpers. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

He laughs darkly. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t. Provided you do a little somethin’ for me first. See, you can’t go walking around Goodneighbor without insurance.”

“W-what?” She says, thrown off by the apparent change in subject. “Insurance?”

“That’s right. Insurance. Personal protection, like. You hand over everything you got in them pockets, or ‘accidents’ start happenin’ to you. Big, _bloody_ ‘accidents’.”

She shrinks back against the door. “I don’t...please, I don’t have anything worth taking, all I have is a little food... _please,_ don’t.” The man shakes his head, shrugging in a parody of apology, and takes a step forward. Dogmeat growls threateningly, but he’s exhausted too, can barely stand.

“Whoa, whoa, time out,” a low, rumbling voice says from behind the man. Judith gasps as someone else walks out of the shadows, draped in a bright red coat, strolling casually towards the man.

“This is low even for you, Finn,” he says. “Someone steps through the gate the first time, they’re a guest. You already know that. But _this?_ Look at her. She’s half-dead already, and you’re still giving her that extortion crap?”

“What d’you care? She ain’t one of us.”

“No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let her go.”

“You’re soft, Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

“Come on, man. This is me we’re talking about. Let me tell you something.”

The man in the red coat—Hancock, apparently—steps forward, reaches for his hip, and suddenly—

Judith screams as he stabs the man in the leather jacket. She tries in vain to stand, clawing at the door behind her.

“Hey, hey,” Hancock says, holding his hands up placatingly. “You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You—you killed him,” she gasps.

“He was planning to do a lot worse to you, I can promise you that. Just calm down. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?”

She finally takes a breath and looks up at him. He’s standing a safe distance back, watching her carefully, knife nowhere to be seen. Now that she can see him better, she realizes—no nose, almost no ears. Skin scarred and whorled like a burn victim. Eyes a solid, glittering black.

“ _You’re_ a ghoul,” she whispers.

He grins, though it looks forced. “That’s right. Like my face? I—”

“Oh, thank _god,”_ she cuts him off. He frowns.

“...what?”

“I thought—oh, god, I thought those big green things were the ghouls. Or the...the walking corpses out there. You look _so_ much nicer than I was expecting ghouls to look.”

He blinks. “Well, that’s a first,” he mumbles.

He comes a little closer, and she manages not to flinch. “I’m guessing the big green things you’re talking about are the super mutants,” he says. “And the walking corpses are probably feral ghouls. Sounds like you’ve had a hard day, huh, sister?”

She laughs weakly, breaking off into a cough. “You have no idea.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says, holding out a hand. She takes it, almost letting go in surprise at the rough feel of his skin against hers.

When he tries to help her up, though, her legs won’t move.

“Shit,” he says with a short laugh. “Hey, Fahr,” he calls over his shoulder. “Help us out, wouldja?”

A taller, stern-faced woman comes over, raising an appraising eyebrow as she looks down at Judith. She shrugs and bends down, grabs Judith under the armpit and hauls her up.

“Hey, _gentle,_ ” Hancock says, supporting Judith from the other side. They walk her over to the nearest building— _the Old State House,_ she thinks in awe—and get her inside. Dogmeat follows, still panting. Finally, they deposit her on a couch, then the woman shakes her head in what looks like amusement and walks away.

Hancock pulls a chair up next to the couch and hands over a bottle of water.

“Oh, god, thank you,” she groans, opening it and taking a few large gulps.

“Slow down, sister, you’re gonna make yourself throw up.”

She stops, takes a few slow breaths, then starts taking small sips instead. He sits back in his chair, seeming pleased.

“I bet you’ve got one hell of a story to tell,” he muses.

“Again, you have no idea,” she groans.

“Well, you can rest here a while if you need to. No rush. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

“How would I get up the stairs, exactly?”

He blinks. “Good point. Just, uh, yell for one of the watch down here. They’ll come get me.”

She nods, then yawns. She’s crashing hard now that the immediate danger is gone. Her eyes flutter shut against her will, and she feels Hancock gently remove the bottle of water from her hands. She tries to thank him, but it just comes out as a garbled murmur. The last thing she hears before she slips into sleep is his low, rumbling laughter.

—

She wakes to the sound of his voice again. It sounds like he’s arguing with somebody.

“He was a liability and you know it,” Hancock is saying. “Not to mention a complete asshole. We’ll be better off without him.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we’re down a strong fighter, Hancock. You’ve _got_ to learn some impulse control.”

“Are you suggesting I should have let him shake down that poor kid in there instead?”

“You know I’m not. But you could have stopped him _without_ killing him.”

“This time, sure. And then he’d do it again, just like he has before. He wasn’t learning his lesson, Fahr. I gave him plenty of chances.”

Judith hears her sigh. “Whatever. You’d better go check on your damsel in distress. _I_ have a body to take care of. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Anytime.”

She sits up a little as she hears him coming.

“Well, well,” he says. “Look who’s awake.”

“Little hard to sleep through that,” she rasps. He picks the half-empty water bottle up from a nearby desk and hands it back to her. She glances around the room and finds Dogmeat curled up on the floor by the couch, a little bowl of water of his own next to him.

“Sorry ‘bout that. That kind of bullshit comes with being the mayor.”

She thinks he wants her to be impressed, so she raises her eyebrows and widens her eyes. He puffs up his chest a little in response, and it’s all she can do not to laugh and ruin it all.

He sits back down in the chair.

“So, feel like telling me your story now? I gotta admit, I’m curious.”

She sits the rest of the way up and swings her legs down. She bites her lip thoughtfully as she watches him. It’s hard to get a read on him—his facial features are different than she’s used to, of course, and she can’t see the subtle movements of his eyes in all that glossy black. She _wants_ to trust him, but she knows she’s always been the kind of person to trust too easily.

“Not all of it,” she says slowly. “Not just yet, I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. He doesn’t look hurt at all, thankfully. “Yeah, I feel you,” he says. “None of my business unless you want it to be.”

She sighs and looks down at the water bottle. “My name is...Dorothy. I’m looking for my sister. I’m not from around here, and I don’t have any idea where to start looking, so I was told to go to Diamond City. I...I was told that it’s the best place to look for answers.”

“Whoever told you that was right,” he says. “Best detective you’ll ever meet lives there. Except...not that I’m not thrilled to have you as a guest in our little town, but how did you manage to end up _here_ if you were heading for Diamond City?”

She feels her cheeks heat in embarrassment and looks away. “Well, there were...raiders. And—and then, more raiders. Then super mutants? I just...kept running into more things that wanted to kill me, and kept running...”

He whistles. “Well, it’s pretty damn lucky you ran this direction, then.”

 _Oh, kid. Luck’s got nothing to do with it,_ echoes in Judith’s mind.

“Yeah,” she says. “It is.”

“So I take it you don’t know how to use that gun of yours very well,” he says.

She sighs. “A little. Not really. I’m just learning, honestly. And there were so _many_ of them.”

“Hey, no shame in knowing when to run. Kept you alive, didn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

He grins. “Well, now you’re up, how about we go get some food in you, maybe a drink?”

As if on cue, her stomach growls. He chuckles, stands, and reaches out to help her up. Her legs are still a little unsteady under her, and she shakes a little before getting her balance. He holds out his elbow, offering it to her to lean on. She finds herself surprisingly flustered by the idea and shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I think I’m okay.” She thinks she sees a flash of disappointment on his face, but it’s hard to tell.

Dogmeat opens his eyes for a moment, watching them, then huffs and closes them again to go back to sleep. She doesn’t blame him.

She follows Hancock out of the State House and around the corner. He takes her down to a place called the Third Rail, past another ghoul named Ham that seems to be a bouncer, who nods in greeting to Hancock and peers at her suspiciously.

Hancock leads her to the bar, where they sit down on a couple of stools. “Brahmin steak okay?” He asks.

She nods, though she has no idea what that is. At this point, she doesn’t really care, as long as it’s food. He orders for both of them, then turns to her again. “Something to drink?”

“Um,” she says. “Surprise me?”

He looks at her carefully for a minute as if sizing her up. Once he’s satisfied, he turns back to the robot behind the counter. “Nuka Cherry and vodka,” he says. The robot grumbles unhappily, but sets about mixing it up. She takes a sip when it’s finished and smiles at Hancock.

“This is good,” she says. “I’ve only ever tried beer and wine before, and I never really liked them.”

He grins, looking proud of himself. She’s not sure why he’s so invested in taking care of her and making her happy, but she’s not going to question it. Most likely he still feels guilty about what happened to her on the way into town.

When the food comes, she’s pleasantly surprised to find it’s basically regular beef steak with a side of carrots. It’s delicious, and along with the drink, she’s soon feeling very warm and content. The singer on stage croons something sweet and jazzy as they eat.

She sighs happily when she finishes.

“Feel better?” Hancock says.

“Mm, much. Thank you.”

The singer finishes her second song, then announces that she’s taking a break and steps down from the stage. The silence in the room quickly fills up with conversation.

The woman walks over to the bar, smiling flirtatiously at Hancock before noticing Judith.

“Well, hello there,” she says. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“I, ah...just got here,” Judith says.

“This is Magnolia,” Hancock says helpfully. “Mags, this is Dorothy.”

“A pleasure,” Magnolia says, voice sugary sweet. “Now, there’s something special about you, isn’t there? Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Hmm...I think I know a fellow performer when I see one.”

“Yes, actually,” Judith says, surprised. “I...used to be a singer.” That’s not even half of what she used to be capable of, but none of the rest of it would make sense nowadays. Actress? Pianist? Flautist? Where would she have ever picked up those skills living in this post-war wasteland?

Magnolia smiles kindly, almost indulgently. “Oh, you should sing for us sometime. I’m sure you have a lovely voice.”

Judith hears the note of condescension, however faint, and can’t help but take it as a challenge.

“Sure,” Judith says. “In fact, since you’re resting right now, why don’t I sing something?”

Magnolia looks startled, but covers it with another gracious smile. “Why, of course. Go right ahead, sweetheart.”

Judith gets up and walks over to the microphone, a split-second feeling of _what am I doing what am I_ doing _this is a terrible idea_ shooting through her before she reaches the stage.

Once she’s there, calm settles over her like a cloak. She’s back on a stage, and it feels like coming home. She glances around the room at the skeptical, amused faces, catching sight of Hancock sitting at the bar. He’s staring at her, expression blank, and she can’t read his face. Damn those black eyes.

She gives him a small smile, and is gratified when the corner of his mouth twitches up in response.

Then she closes her eyes.

It’s not hard to pick a song—nothing could possibly feel more appropriate right now than what she has in mind.

“ _Somewhere over the rainbow,”_ she begins in a voice like silk and honey, _“way up high, there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.”_

She loses herself in the song, the movie playing out behind her eyes as she sings, and for those few minutes she’s free of this awful wasteland. For those few minutes she’s flying.

“ _If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow...why, oh why can’t I?”_

She keeps her eyes closed for another few seconds, not ready to let go of that feeling just yet. She finally opens them again when the crowd begins to clap. A few of the drifters even whistle. She looks around the room, smiling at their pleasantly shocked faces. Magnolia is staring with her mouth open. Judith nods her head to the crowd in lieu of a bow, then returns to Magnolia’s side.

“You weren’t kidding,” Magnolia breathes, then laughs. “Maybe I should start worrying for my job security.”

Judith smiles back, pleased. “I’ve been practicing for a long time.”

“I can tell. Maybe sometime we can do a duet, hm?”

She winks, and Judith isn’t so sure she’s talking about singing anymore.

When Magnolia returns to the stage, Judith turns back to where Hancock had been sitting and finds him gone. She frowns, a little hurt, though she doesn’t know what she was hoping for. Did she expect him to be impressed?

She sighs and decides it’s time to go. She smiles at the people still watching her, says a polite if nervous goodnight to Ham, then steps out into the crisp evening air.

“Now where did you learn a song like that?” Hancock says. She jumps, turning to find him leaning against the wall next to the doors.

“Just...grew up with it,” she says. He hums thoughtfully, eyes narrow.

“Why? Didn’t you like it?” She tries, frowning a little as though her feelings are hurt.

He grins, the pensiveness easily dropping from his face. “’Course I liked it. You kidding me? It was beautiful. You got talent, sister.”

She smiles, shyly looking away.

“Nice lyrics, too,” he continues. “Hopeful. Could use more of that around here.” He pushes himself off of the wall. “So, it’s getting late. If you want a room to yourself, there’s always the Hotel Rexford down there.”

“The—oh. Oh, I...I don’t have any money.”

He chuckles. “Well, you’re welcome to the couch again. Maybe not the height of comfort, but it beats sleeping on the floor.”

She smiles back at him gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He turns and walks away, then calls back over his shoulder.

“Goodnight, little bluebird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's hancock time, oh my!
> 
> come see me on tumblr @ [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu)!!


	6. To Emerald City

Judith wakes before sunrise.

Her legs are still sore, but she has no trouble standing and keeping her balance now. She walks silently through the State House, which is quiet but for faint snoring coming from upstairs. The guards—Hancock had called them _the watch_ —eye her with mild interest, but say nothing.

She sneaks outside with Dogmeat at her heels.

The sky is gorgeous, and she spends a while just watching it as it turns from dark blue to pink and orange. The air is crisp and almost sweet despite the vaguely unpleasant smell of the town itself. After a while she sighs, looking down at Dogmeat.

“Well,” she whispers. “Shall we try again? Maybe all the raiders and mutants will still be asleep.”

Dogmeat whines a little, looking back at the State House. She reaches down to scratch him behind the ears.

“I know,” she sighs. “But we can’t stay here forever.”

She walks towards the door leading out of Goodneighbor, moving slower with every step. God, but the thought of going back out there is terrifying.

Judith spends a long time working up the courage to leave, staring at the door like it’ll provide the answer for her.

“Leaving without saying goodbye, huh?”

She gasps, turning around and finding Hancock leaning on the wall next to the door she’d come out of. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I...I didn’t want to wake anyone up,” she says. “And I thought leaving early while everything should still be sleeping would be safer. I’m sorry.”

He pushes himself off the wall and walks closer.

“You think they don’t have watches posted at night? Sister, there’s no good time to walk around downtown.”

She chews her lip and looks down, embarrassed. “Oh,” she says softly.

“At least have some breakfast before you leave. Can’t run for your life on an empty stomach.”

Despite herself, she laughs. He smiles a little wider at the sound.

“Yeah, okay,” she says. He leads her back into the State House and up the stairs, into a room with two couches facing each other. He motions for her to sit down and leaves the room. A few minutes later he returns with two plates, a piece of grilled meat that looks a bit like chicken on each, along with some sweet-smelling purple fruit. She looks at the meat suspiciously for a moment before looking up at him.

“Do I want to know what this is?”

“Probably not.”

She eyes it nervously again, then sighs and takes a bite. It’s actually very good, and truthfully does taste a bit like chicken, if a little tougher.

Once she’s done with the meat she tries the fruit, and nearly groans in pleasure at the taste. It’s sweet and slightly tart, bursting with flavor. She finishes it quickly and sucks the juice off of her fingers.

When she looks up, Hancock is staring.

“What?” She says defensively. “I was hungry.”

He blinks and shakes his head, then returns to eating his own food.

“So,” he says between bites. “Diamond City. Not gonna be an easy road between here and there.”

“I’d gathered as much.”

“I was thinking, maybe you could use an escort to walk you there. No reason you have to go alone. And I’d feel better knowing you’re not somewhere out there splattered on the pavement.”

She shudders. “You make a good point. I...I _would_ appreciate the help.”

He grins. “Great. Just lemme get my shotgun and let Fahrenheit know where I’m goin’.”

“You?” She says in surprise.

“That a problem?”

“Oh, no, of course not, I just didn’t think you’d personally...I mean, you’ve done so much for me already.”

He shrugs. “What, let you sleep on a couch and fed you a bit? Hardly worth mentioning.”

“But that’s _not_ all you’ve—”

He sets his empty plate down on the table and stands, grinning at her. “Be right back. Don’t go leaving without me, now.”

She sighs. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

While she waits, Judith feeds Dogmeat some squirrel bits that Sturges had sent her off with that she couldn’t bring herself to eat. After all... _squirrel_ bits.

When Hancock comes back, Fahrenheit is trailing behind him, looking irritated. She stares at Judith, who shrinks back into the couch as much as she can.

“So _you’re_ the one running away with our mayor,” Fahrenheit says.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

Fahrenheit shakes her head, expression softening into a small smile. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I can take care of Goodneighbor just fine without this idiot around. Just don’t let him get into too much trouble.”

“I’ll, uh...I’ll try,” Judith says. Hancock chuckles.

“Good luck with _that._ You ready to go, sister?”

She’s not ready, not really—doesn’t actually want to leave at all. She feels inexplicably _safe_ here. It’s time, though. Ruby’s still waiting for her somewhere out there.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

—

They pick their way through the city, keeping to alleys and moving through the shadows as much as they can. Low and slow, Hancock says. She follows his lead, thankful that he seems to know the way.

“Hold it,” he hisses.

She stops dead. At her side Dogmeat freezes too, ears perked up attentively.

Without the sound of their footsteps, Judith can just hear muffled voices a little ways down the street.

“Raiders?” she whispers.

Hancock hums in agreement. “Could backtrack and go around, but this is the best way through.” He thinks for a moment, then turns to her and grins. “Been a bit too quiet anyway.”

“Wait, what?”

Then Hancock is on his feet, Dogmeat tearing after him as he charges in.

Judith just watches them go for a moment with wide eyes. A sudden blast of gunfire from somewhere behind her finally breaks her out of her shock and sends her down the street after them.

When she catches up, Hancock is grinning fiercely and picking the raiders off one by one. Judith just watches in awe, incredibly grateful he’s on her side. As an afterthought, she takes her own gun out and flicks off the safety, but she stays where she is for now. Hancock certainly seems to have this under control.

Until another raider darts out of a building across the street, baseball bat in hand adorned with glinting, sharp nails.

He’s—he’s coming up right behind Hancock. She yells, but in all the chaos Hancock will never hear her in time—the raider is raising the bat to swing, and her heart stops in her chest.

With shaking hands she raises her gun, aims for the man’s armored chest—she can knock him off balance like Preston said, buy Hancock some time. She can do this.

She just has to try not to hit Hancock.

Just as she squeezes the trigger, the man glances to the side and sees her. His eyes widen, he starts to duck, and—

And the bullet that would have hit him in the shoulder hits him in the forehead instead. He crumples to the ground.

Judith stands there, frozen, not breathing. The fight goes on, Hancock shouting cheerful insults and Dogmeat barking and growling along with him, but they sound like they’re miles away. She can’t move.

“Dorothy?” Hancock says, panting. She didn’t notice the fight end—didn’t notice the shooting had stopped over the ringing in her ears. She can’t lower her gun.

She feels him touch her shoulder gently and collapses to her knees, letting the gun fall.

“Whoa, hey,” he says. “What’s wrong? You hurt?”

She shakes her head, trying to choke the words out, but her throat feels like it’s closed up and she _can’t._

The dead raider stares back at her, eyes glassy and empty. _She_ did that.

Then Dogmeat is licking her cheek, and she throws her arms around him and buries her face in his fur.

“I killed him,” she finally manages. “I—I was aiming for his chest, I didn’t...I didn’t mean to.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Hancock says. She looks up at him, sees him staring down at her like she’s crazy. “Of _course_ you killed him. That’s how it works.”

She shakes her head, unable to put it into words. The only people she’s actually killed herself until now were the raiders at the Museum with the grenade, and she didn’t have to _see_ them. She didn’t even have time then to focus on the fact that she killed them. Most importantly, she didn’t have to _watch_ them die because of her. Every other kill was Dogmeat’s, and she never looked too closely at any of them after death.

“Really weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t from around here, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Know I’m...being ridiculous. I just...”

“Nah,” he says. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, though. It’s kill or be killed out here.”

“I know,” she whispers.

He sighs, looks up at the sky. “You know,” he says. “I don’t mind if you hang back for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me and the mutt here do the fighting for now. Don’t like seein’ you like this.”

She shakes her head. “And what about after Diamond City, when I’m on my own again?”

He’s silent for a long time, and she rests her head on Dogmeat and lets the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat calm her down.

“You don’t have to be,” Hancock finally says.

She narrows her eyes at him. “How do you figure?”

He shrugs. “Been cooped up in Goodneighbor for too long, I think. Gettin’ rusty. Maybe it’s time I get out here and stretch my legs again. And _you_ , no offense, need all the help you can get. So what do you say? Feel like traveling with an exquisitely handsome and deadly ghoul for a while longer?”

She laughs softly despite herself. “But don’t your people need you?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “They got Fahrenheit. And it’s not like I won’t be back, if you don’t mind me checking in with them once in a while. I think right now you need me more than they do. So how about it?”

She bites her lip in thought, then nods. She picks her gun back up off the ground gingerly and tucks it away again. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, okay. I...thank you.”

He grins, reaching out a hand to help her stand. “It’s settled, then. You’ll be the brain, I’ll be the brawn.”

She frowns at that. “You seem to have plenty of brains yourself, Scarecrow,” she says without thinking.

“Scarecrow?” He laughs. “Ain’t that one of those old things they used to put out in fields to scare the birds off?”

“I...yes, but that’s not—”

“I like it,” he says. “Ugly _and_ intimidating. Fits pretty well.”

“ _No,”_ she says, exasperated. “That isn’t what I meant.”

He shrugs and grins. “Come on, now, we’re wastin’ daylight. Let's go, Bluebird.”

She huffs angrily and shakes her head before storming away. She hears him chuckle as he follows her.

He retakes the lead soon enough, considering she has no idea where she’s going. They pass a group of super mutants fighting another band of raiders, sneaking past silently.

“My money’s on the mutants,” Hancock whispers.

Judith glances back at them, watches a super mutant knock a raider into the air with a single punch.

“I would have to agree with you,” she says, shuddering. She hopes she never has to tangle with super mutants herself.

“Here we go,” Hancock says as they turn another corner. On the wall is a symbol—a small white diamond within a larger diamond, and underneath an arrow pointing to the right. Hancock turns left.

“But that’s the wrong way,” Judith says.

“Yeah, there’s no ghouls allowed in Diamond City. They’re not gonna open the front gate for me. Don’t worry, I know a back way in.”

“How?” She asks skeptically. His face darkens for a moment.

“Used to live here. But that’s not important now. Just follow me.”

She trails after him as he leads her the long way around. “But they’ll see you,” she protests. “Once we’re inside, they’ll...they’ll just kick us right back out, won’t they?”

He stops suddenly, turning to look at her over his shoulder with a dangerous smile.

“Would _you_ mess with me in a dark alley, sister?”

She swallows hard, heart fluttering in her chest. Whether in fear or something else, she doesn’t even know. He chuckles at her expression and keeps walking.

They climb a set of metal stairs on the side of a building, walk through the second floor and come out the other side. There’s a rudimentary wooden bridge leading from the building to the wall of—

“Fenway Park,” she whispers.

Hancock doesn’t hear her. He motions for her to keep following as he goes over the bridge. Once they’re over it, it’s a short drop to the top of the bleachers. He jumps down, then helps Judith down gently.

“Dog’s gonna have to wait for us here,” he says. “Sorry, pooch. Stay.”

Dogmeat whimpers, but lies down, putting his head on his paws with a huff.

Hancock turns to grin at Judith proudly. “Told you I’d get us in. Now let’s go find Nick before we run into any trouble.”

They creep down the bleachers and climb down again at the bottom. A little wooden path leads them further into town, then turns the corner into a little alleyway—right behind an armored guard.

“Shit,” Hancock mutters. His entire bearing changes in the space of a second, shoulders rolling back and chest out. He tips his head forward, just enough to cloak his eyes in shadow under the brim of his hat.

Judith’s breath catches in her throat. She knows _exactly_  what he’s doing—she’s done it a thousand times herself. He’s dropping into character.

The man turns and catches sight of them and steps forward menacingly, raising his bat.

“Now how’d _you_ get in here? Ain’t no ghouls in Diamond City,” he says. “You better—wait. Aren’t you...?” His eyes dart over Hancock’s figure, taking in the red coat and hat.

Hancock bares his teeth in a wicked smile, saying nothing.

“Oh, fuck,” the guard mutters. “I—I’ve heard about you.” He looks behind himself nervously, as if hoping there’ll be someone around to back him up.

“Tell you what,” Hancock says in a near-growl. “You never saw me, and I never saw _you._ Sound good?”

The man nods frantically, then backs off and runs away.

Judith stares after the guard as he disappears around corner before turning to look at Hancock. “I didn’t know I was traveling with a celebrity,” she says wryly.

He bows to her, then laughs, face instantly brightening. “I might have a _bit_ of a reputation. Long as we stick to the shadows and I don’t try to walk out into the middle of the marketplace, we’ll be golden. Should try to be quick, though. Let’s get to Nick’s before we have to go through all that again.”

They turn under a neon sign— _Valentine Detective Agency_ —and through a door.

Inside stands a woman with her back to them, muttering and shaking her head as she rifles through a box of what looks like files.

“Sorry,” she says over her shoulder absently. “The agency is closed.”

“Closed? The hell does that mean?” Hancock says. The woman whips her head around, eyes wide.

“ _Hancock?”_

“Ellie,” he says, grinning.

She comes out from behind the desk for a hug, then smacks him on the shoulder. “What are you doing here, you idiot? You could get yourself in serious trouble.”

He shrugs. “You know me. Gotta live life on the edge. Anyway, I got a friend here that needs Nick’s help. Where is he?”

Her face falls. “That’s the problem. He’s...gone.”

Hancock’s easy expression darkens instantly. “What do you mean ‘he’s gone’?”

“I mean he’s _gone,”_ she says, sighing. “He went off on a case and...he hasn’t come back. I _told_ him he was walking into a trap, but he just smiled and walked out the door like he always does.”

“Where?” Hancock growls.

Ellie gives him the details, and he nods. “We’ll bring him back,” he says. “Promise.”

She sighs. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, but...be careful, Hancock. He wouldn’t want you to get yourself hurt for him.”

“Don’t you worry about me. We’ll be back before you know it. _All_ of us.”

Ellie squeezes Hancock’s arm affectionately, only giving Judith a brief glance before going back to what she was doing.

Hancock stalks out of the office and down the wooden path, ignoring the few startled shouts as they pass another guard and a few Diamond City residents. Judith follows, though she’s not sure he even remembers she’s there.

“Hancock,” she says as they reach the wall. “What’s wrong?”

He looks almost surprised to see her when he turns his head. “Nick’s an old friend. One of the best people I know. And if someone’s hurt him...” He snarls, face twisting in anger.

She touches his shoulder gently, and as he looks at her his face softens into something sadder, something almost scared.

“We’ll find him,” she says more confidently than she feels.

He smiles, though it’s obviously forced, before helping her back up into the bleachers, then again at the top of the wall. Dogmeat wags his tail and jumps up at the sight of them.

“New plan, boy,” Judith says, holding her hand out for him to lick excitedly. “We’ve got ourselves a detective to rescue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers: it was radroach meat
> 
> come yell @ me at [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu) on tumblr!!


	7. If I Only Had a Heart

Hancock moves with new purpose now, strides long and sure, caution all but forgotten. Judith tries her best to keep up and watch the road around them at the same time. The few stray raiders they come across are blown away almost before they can register the ghoul’s presence.

Dogmeat stops suddenly as they pass through a narrow alley, growling low in his throat, and Judith stops with him. She’s quickly learning to trust his instincts before her own. Hancock continues, oblivious.

“Hancock!” Judith hisses, then a little louder when he doesn’t respond. He finally stops and looks back over his shoulder at her with an irritated frown just before the next corner.

As he opens his mouth to speak, a thunderous laugh pierces the air. Hancock’s eyes widen, and he freezes.

“Super mutants,” he mouths at her. He backs up slowly, returning to her side.

“Can we go around?” she whispers.

“Only other way is all the way back and across the Commons out in the open, and that’s even more dangerous. Come on, let’s see what we’re up against.”

They creep forward little by little until they can see around the wall to where the road widens again. There’s a group of those enormous green people standing around further down the street, throwing insults at each other and grunting. She counts five, and the one in the center of the group is carrying...

“What’s that one got in its hand?” she whispers.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “That’s a suicider. They carry mini nukes, chase you down, and detonate them. Kills ‘em, of course, but it takes you down with them.”

Her eyes widen. “That’s...wow.”

“Tell me about it. If one of us had a rifle we could hit it from here and blow all the fuckers away, but between my shotgun and your pistol...our chances ain’t great.”

She chews her lip and tilts her head, judging the distance between them and the super mutants.

“Got any grenades?” She says.

He whips his head around to look at her. “Do I... _what?”_

She raises an eyebrow at him expectantly.

“I got a couple, but that’s a long damn way to throw, and we’d only get one chance before they came after us. I don’t think—”

“Do you trust me?”

He blinks at her slowly, furrows his brow, and for a second she thinks he’s going to say _no, what are you, crazy?_

Then he reaches into his bag and pulls out two frag grenades and hands them to her. She smiles as she takes them, gratified by his apparent faith in her.

She’s nervous, sure, but she’s also thrilled to get the chance to impress _him_ in combat for once. She pushes the thought out of her mind to savor afterwards so she can concentrate. She moves a few feet closer and adjusts her angle. When she’s sure she’s in exactly the right position, she stands and winds up quickly.

“Swing, batter batter,” she mutters.

Then she throws it, fast and low. It sails beautifully, hits dead center, and comes to land right under the suicider’s feet.

It grunts in confusion, looks down, and then it’s too late. Judith has to shield her eyes from the brightness of the explosion.

“Holy shit,” Hancock says as the dust clears. “Holy _shit.”_

When Judith looks back, three of the mutants are dead, and the last two are badly wounded and struggling to stand. Hancock jumps up and charges in to finish them off with his shotgun. Judith leans against the crumbling brick wall casually, hands clasped in front of her, playing up the sweet, innocent look as Hancock walks back towards her. The dumbfounded expression on his face is incredibly satisfying.

“Now how the _fuck_ did you do that?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Girl’s softball team, four years. Star pitcher.”

“I don’t know what the hell any of that means, but next time we’re in town? We’re stocking up on grenades.”

He claps her on the shoulder with a proud look on his face she’s never yet seen there before. Her heart pounds strangely, chest filling with a warmth she doesn’t know what to do with.

It’s not long after that before they reach their destination—a nondescript little subway entrance Judith would have completely overlooked on her own. Another vault is down here, Ellie had said. She shudders at the thought of going into another vault, though it seems to be unavoidable.

They slip through the door and creep down the stairs quietly. Before they reach the bottom, Judith hears voices.

"I still say Malone's weak. We caught that detective snooping around, and what does he do? Locks him up. Like he ain't got the balls to just kill him."

She glances to the side at Hancock, watching the relief wash over his face. He closes his eyes for a moment, just breathing slowly. When he opens them, he’s smiling that crooked, confident smile of his again, and he catches Judith’s eye and winks.

Then he and Dogmeat are charging in, Hancock taunting the men cheerfully as he shoots. Judith shakes her head, but can’t suppress a smile.

When the area is clear, Hancock calls out for her and she follows him deeper into the tunnels.

When they reach the next large room at the bottom of the stairs, Hancock swears softly under his breath. There’s at least five men in the room, and that’s only what’s visible from their vantage point. Most of their view is blocked off by pillars. She swallows hard.

“Do you need me to—?” she starts.

“No,” he says decisively. “You stay back here. C’mon, pooch.”

She feels horribly guilty as he sneaks down the stairs away from her, but also incredibly relieved. Still, she can’t help peeking her head over the railing to make sure he’s okay.

She watches him mow down person after person, suddenly unable to stop herself.

_What were their names?_ she thinks. _Will anyone miss them? Did they have families?_

“All clear,” Hancock finally calls back to her.

She follows slowly, looking down at the bodies as she passes them. Fresh, wet blood spatters the ground she walks. Mouths that had been speaking and breathing only moments ago droop open shapelessly. Her stomach churns, but she can’t drag her eyes away.

“Hey,” Hancock says. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“Gotta get used to it,” she mumbles. “Said so yourself.”

“I’m a dumbass, don’t ever listen to me. Come on, Nick’s waiting.”

She lets him lead her across the rails and up to the vault door, freezing when they reach it. Her heart races as she stares at it. He lifts her arm and plugs the Pip-Boy into the controls without her even noticing he’s doing it.

Embarrassingly, she actually whimpers when he presses the button to open the door.

“Bluebird? You okay?”

“Vault,” is all she can say, but his face softens like he understands.

“You wanna stay out here while I go in?”

She bites her lip, seriously considering it for a moment, before glancing behind her. Stay in a dark subway tunnel alone with a bunch of mangled corpses for company, or delve into another vault?

“If it helps, people come in and outta here all the time. We’re not gonna get stuck inside. You’d be surprised how much scum from the Commonwealth trickles in here.”

She feels the muscles in her back relax just slightly. “That helps a little bit, yeah,” she says softly. “I...I can do this.”

He smiles reassuringly. “Whatever happens, you got me.”

That’s actually more helpful than what he said before, but she’s not going to admit to that out loud. “After you,” she says instead.

They run into another few of the men just inside the vault entrance, and Hancock takes them down.

“Who are these guys, anyway?”

“Triggermen,” he grumbles. “Obsessed with some mob shit from back before the war. Think they’re all classy, but they’re basically raiders with a few more manners.”

They move through the vault slowly but steadily, Hancock and Dogmeat taking down enemy after enemy. Thankfully, the layout is nothing like Vault 111’s had been. She’s still a little uncomfortable, but it’s more a vague disquiet in the back of her mind than the full-blown terror she was expecting. There’s a high drop to the bottom floor at one point, but they manage very carefully, Hancock helping Judith down to a ledge in between and catching Dogmeat in his arms, then again on the floor itself. Judith finds herself thankful that Hancock seems to be much stronger than he looks.

They finally walk out into a wide open area where another suited man is talking to someone behind a glass window.

“Nick,” Hancock breathes, grinning.

They sneak up the side stairs as the voice behind the window taunts the triggerman, and Hancock blows him away before he even sees them.

Hancock stands and walks to the window. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says.

“Hancock? Is that really you?”

“’Course. You think I’d just let you rot in some vault?”

“How’d you even know I was in here? No, you know what, we can talk later. We’ve got three minutes before they realize muscles-for-brains ain’t coming back. Get this door open.”

Judith notices a slip of paper sticking out of the dead man’s coat pocket and gingerly takes it. She tries the password written on it on the computer terminal on the wall, smiling back at Hancock when the door slides open.

Hancock strides into the room, Judith following. He throws his arms around the man standing inside. Now that she’s a little closer, Judith can see his face, and—

"It's a machine," she says, staring.

"Jesus, aren't you the queen of good first impressions," Hancock mutters, turning around and frowning at her. "He's a _synth_. And he's not an _it."_

Judith steps closer, peering through the ragged holes in the robot...the _synth's_ face at the wiring.

"Wow," she says wonderingly. "I've never seen anything like this. Look how delicate the parts are!"

"I don't know whether to be complimented or insulted," it grumbles. Judith gasps the moment it opens its mouth, jumping back a little.

"Oh, the movement is so realistic! How is this possible? It's wonderful. I wish Ruby could see this."

The synth looks at Hancock, who shrugs.

"Sorry, Nicky. Can't take her anywhere."

Judith isn't paying attention—she's just noticed the synth's right hand. The bare metal makes its fingers look more like claws. The synth catches her staring and raises it, wiggling the fingers a little. She gasps again, leaning in to examine the tiny moving parts.

"It's so intricate," she whispers. 

"Where the hell did you find this one?" it says to Hancock.

"Long story. Right now, we better get out of here."

"Couldn't agree more," the synth says.

Judith follows as Hancock and the synth—Nick, apparently—mumble to each other ahead of her. Dogmeat stays close at her heels as usual.

She studies the way the synth walks, amazed at how realistic it is—if she hadn’t seen its face, she wouldn’t have realized it was anything but human. It leads them through another path out of the vault, and between the synth, Hancock, and Dogmeat, the rest of the triggermen in their way don’t stand a chance. They barely have to slow down at all.

Then they reach the last door. Nick freezes as it opens.

“Nicky?” a stocky man on the other side of the door says. “What’re you doin’? You come into my house, shoot up my guys. You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back? And—who the fuck is that? Is that the goddamn mayor of Goodneighbor? You building a fucking army in there behind my back?”

“Look, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often.”

The woman opens her mouth to speak, but Hancock cuts her off.

“Throwing away a family and a real life to hang around scum like this in a rusted old vault? And I thought _I_ made some bad life decisions.”

“Don’t—don’t you try and confuse me,” she says. “Like they even care I’m gone.”

“Is that why they hired me to find you?” Nick says. “Your mother cried when she told me you’d been kidnapped, you know. Said she’d pay _any_ price just to get her little girl back. That sound like not caring to you, Darla?”

She falters, suddenly looking unsure of herself. Judith steps forward.

“I just lost everyone I’ve ever known,” she says softly. “I’d give anything to have my family back...to have a home to go back to. You have a chance I’ll never have again, Darla. Don’t waste it like this.”

“I...I...you're right! What am I doing? I've gotten all mixed up!”

“Darla? Wh-where are you goin'?” Skinny says.

“Home, Skinny! Where I should have been all this time. This is goodbye for us.” She walks away, head held high, sparing one last glance back at Judith, something like pity in her eyes.

“Oh, come on, Nicky! You cost me my men, now you and your friend cost me my girl?”

Dogmeat growls, ears flattening against his head. Hancock raises his shotgun. “It’ll cost you your life next if you don’t back down,” he says. “We killed every one of your men in this vault without breaking a sweat. What makes you think we can’t take you and your little henchmen next?”

Skinny opens and closes his mouth like a fish, eyes darting between Hancock’s gun and Nick’s face.

“That’s what I thought,” Hancock says smugly, beginning to walk towards the stairs. One of Skinny’s men raises his gun to aim at Hancock.

Without thinking, Judith steps in between them, her own gun in hand and pointed at the man’s head before she knows what she’s doing.

“Fuckin’ drop it, you idiot,” the other man grumbles. The first one swallows hard and lowers his gun, finally letting them all pass. They get out of the room and into a little tunnel before Hancock stops, whirling around on Judith.

“What were you thinking? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”

“I...I don’t know,” she says, looking down at her feet. “I just...he was going to hurt you.”

He growls in frustration. “You see this coat? It’s reinforced with ballistic weave. So’s the hat. That means I’m armored, got it? I can take a few shots just fine. You, on the other hand, are wearing...I don’t even _know_ what that is, but I’m willing to bet it wouldn’t last two seconds in a real firefight.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He sighs, suddenly pulling her into a tight hug. She can’t do much but stiffen, too surprised to return it, and it only lasts a moment.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you were tryin’ to do,” he says more gently. “But don’t do it again. Got it?”

“Got it,” she mumbles.

“If we’re all finished?” Nick grumbles.

She follows behind them as they move on. Dogmeat stays beside her, pressed up against her side comfortingly.

Eventually they reach a ladder out of the vault, which Hancock scales with Dogmeat under his arm.

“Gotta put you on a diet, mutt,” he says as they reach the surface. “Can’t keep doing this all the time.”

“So,” Nick says. “I guess I owe you my life again, Hancock. This is getting embarrassing.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Nicky, you know that. S’what friends are for.”

The synth shakes its head with a smile, then turns to Judith.

“Now what about you? What are you doing along for the ride?”

“I, uh,” she says awkwardly. “I was told you were a great detective, and my sister’s missing. Your secretary told us we’d find you here, so...”

“Well, let’s get back to Diamond City, then. You can tell me all about it there.”

They go back the way they came, which is thankfully still clear of enemies from when she and Hancock first came through. He and the synth talk the whole way, and Judith feels more than a little left out. She’s also still ashamed from Hancock’s scolding earlier. She hangs back more than usual, taking comfort in Dogmeat’s presence.

Hancock glances over his shoulder and sees her trailing far behind and frowns. He stops walking and lets her catch up as the synth walks ahead a little, giving them room to talk.

“Bluebird?”

She hums in acknowledgment, but can’t look up at him.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’ta been so harsh. You just scared me. I’m supposed to be protecting _you_ , remember?”

She nods and forces a smile, but she still can’t shake the heavy feeling that’s settled in her chest. She’s tired of feeling useless. She’s tired of feeling like a burden to him.

He stares at her for another minute before sighing, then starts walking again. She stays a little closer, but still doesn’t keep pace with him.

Nick leads them toward the front gates.

“Nick, you know they’re not gonna let me in here,” Hancock warns.

“You’re with me now, and they’re just going to have to deal with it,” Nick calls back. “Half of them owe me their lives one way or another.”

Hancock shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

When they reach the gate it’s closed, and a woman dressed in a red coat and beret is yelling at a speaker.

“What do you mean you can't open the gate? Stop playing around, Danny! I'm standing out in the open here, for crying out loud!”

"I got orders not to let you in, Ms. Piper,” a voice crackles through the speaker. “I'm sorry. I'm just doing my job."

"Just doing your job? Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? Oh look, it's the scary reporter! Boo!"

“Piper?” Nick says as they approach.

She jumps a little before turning around. Her eyes widen.

“Nick!” she gasps. “You’re back! Alive, even.”

Nick smiles. “Nice to see you, too, Piper.”

“Guess I’ll have to pull that missing persons page from the next issue,” she mumbles. “Hey, Danny, you hear that? Nick’s back! You’re not gonna open the gate for Nick Valentine?”

“Nice try, Piper,” the weary voice says through the intercom. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you in.”

Nick leans over to the speaker. “Danny, I’ve had a very long day. Would you please open the door so I can go sit down in my own chair?”

Danny gasps. “Mr. Valentine! Of course, I’ll open the gate right away.”

“Causing trouble again, Piper?” Nick says with a chuckle as the gate creaks open.

“Can’t let things get too boring around here, can I?” she says. She turns to look Judith over appraisingly before following Nick inside. The guards on the other side look surprised and happy to see the synth, but frown and grip their bats tighter when they notice Hancock following.

“Nick, you know the rules,” one warns. “No ghouls allowed in Diamond City.”

“This _ghoul_ just saved my life. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. You wanna throw him out, I’ll be leaving with him. Got it?”

The guards look at each other uneasily, then back at Hancock. He grins smugly.

“Just...just don’t let the mayor see, okay?” the first guard says.

“Like he’d pull his head out of his ass long enough to notice,” Piper grumbles.

“Come on,” Nick says, continuing down the stairs.

“Now Hancock and Nick I know,” Piper says as they walk. “But who’re you?”

“I’m, uh, Dorothy. I’m new to the area. I just need Nick’s help finding someone.”

Piper hums, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Judith wants to fidget, to look away, but suppresses it, meeting Piper’s gaze evenly. Finally the woman shrugs.

“Well, I better get back to my office. Good to see you back, Nick.”

People stare as they cross the marketplace, the guards looking at each other uncertainly as Hancock passes, but no one stops them this time.

When they reach the agency again, Ellie is sitting behind the desk, idly shuffling through a folder of papers. She looks up and gasps.

“Nick!”

“Told you I’d do it,” Hancock says, leaning against the wall and looking even more smug as Ellie hugs the synth tightly.

Ellie smiles over at him, shaking her head wryly. “And you’re never going to let me forget it.”

“Damn straight.”

“Ellie,” Nick says, taking her chin in its good hand and tilting it up to see the bags under her eyes. “You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping?”

She shrugs a little, looking away. “I’ve been worried,” she says.

“Well, we’re all here and safe now. Go get some rest.”

She nods, smiling at Hancock one last time before leaving the room.

Nick sits down behind the desk with a contented sigh. “Now, what can I do for you?”

Judith bites her lip. “Well, uh...” she looks up at Hancock nervously. He frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

She glances back down at the synth’s bare metal hand, then at the holes in its face.

“Ah,” it says. “Still can’t get over the whole ‘synth’ thing, can you?”

“I just...I don’t understand how a robot can be a detective.”

Hancock grabs her by the shoulder and turns her to face him. “Don’t call him that,” he growls. “He’s not a fucking robot. He’s a synth, and he’s my _friend_ , one of the only real ones I’ve got _._ You—”

“Hancock,” Nick interrupts gently. “Why don’t you step outside for a minute, have a smoke?”

Hancock looks over at Nick, face twisted in anger, then sighs. “Fine.”

He gives Judith one more dark look before leaving the room.

Her heart is still pounding. He’s—he’s actually _angry_ at her. What has she done?

“Sit, please,” Nick says, gesturing towards the empty chair. She can’t look up at it— _him_ —as she sits, instead staring down at her hands. Dogmeat plops down on the ground to curl up next to her feet.

“Now, I know you said you aren’t from around here, but I’m finding it a little hard to believe you’ve never heard of synths before. But like Hancock said, I’m not just a _robot._ Synths are just synthetic people. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells. I’m damn near as human as you are.”

“But how? It’s all programming,” she protests. “It’s just...electricity and wiring. How can you be sentient?”

“How can you?” Nick grumbles in return. “Everything going on in that brain of yours is just electric signals and wiring too, you know. Only difference is yours is organic and mine was built.”

She chews her lip in thought. “It’s just...hard to wrap my head around.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

When she looks up, she sees actual hurt etched into the lines of his face, and it’s that more than anything that starts to sway her.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I’ve been terrible to you, haven’t I?”

“What, you suddenly having a change of heart?”

She shrugs one shoulder, looking down. “I don’t know. But I should be treating you with more respect than I have, no matter what I think. It’s not your fault I don’t understand. So...I’m sorry.”

He’s silent for a while, and she’s more sure with every second that it was too little, too late.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, then sighs. “How about we start over?”

She looks back up at him and smiles in relief. He reaches out his intact hand, and she takes it. He shakes.

“Nick Valentine, synth detective,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

She laughs lightly. “Nice to meet you, too, Nick Valentine, synth detective. I’m Dorothy, insensitive ass.”

He chuckles. “Hell of a job description.”

“Well, _someone_ has to do it.”

When Hancock re-enters the room, she and Nick are still smiling at each other, and some of the tension melts out of Hancock’s shoulders.

She’ll have to apologize to him later, too.

“So, you ready to tell me what’s going on?” Nick says.

Judith glances nervously at Hancock, chewing her lower lip.

He shifts his weight towards the door. “Want me to step out again for a minute?”

“No,” she says quickly. “God, no. You’ve more than earned the right to hear it. But I...I don’t know if you’ll believe it.”

He leans back against the wall, arms crossed and brow cocked challengingly. “Try me.”

She turns back to Nick and takes a deep breath.

“I’m from a little neighborhood called Sanctuary Hills, up to the west of Concord.”

He nods patiently and waits for her to continue.

“From... _before_ the war,” she says hesitantly. Hancock jerks away from the wall, dropping his hands to his sides.

“Did you just say what I think you said, or am I tripping?”

She looks down at her hands where they’re clenched together in her lap.

“I was there when the bombs hit. I ran to the vault, and they took us inside and made us climb into these...pods. They gave us some medical reason, I forget what. I was too shocked to really pay attention. Then they froze us, I guess. I...I finally woke up over two hundred years later, the only one left alive, and found the world like... _this.”_

Nick and Hancock stare at her for a long time while she fidgets.

“Okay,” Nick finally says slowly. “Assuming that’s all true, where does your sister factor into this equation?”

“Well, she was supposed to be there with me. But she wasn’t at home when the bombs hit, so I made it and she didn’t. But—but there’s an old cleaning bot back in Sanctuary that’s been there the whole time, and it said she’s been there within the last ten years. Then this old woman I helped out, she said—I didn’t tell her I even had a sister, but she has something she calls the Sight, and she started telling me that my sister was waiting for me, and then she sent me out to look for her. She told me to come here.”

“So,” Hancock says. “Let me get this straight. We’re looking for your sister, who’s been missing for over two hundred years, based on the word of a Mister Handy and a little old lady who claims to be psychic.”

Judith glares at him. “If you want to put it that way, _yes.”_

He shrugs and grins. “Well, I’m game. Nicky, where do we start?”

Nick sighs and rubs at his temple with his bare metal hand. “Now, I never like to turn down a case, but I can’t say I’ve got a lot to go on here. Even if she’s still alive, a decade is a long time, and there’s no guarantee she’ll have stayed in the area.”

Judith bites her lip, looking down at her hands where they’re twisted in her lap. She should have known better than to get her hopes up. Just because they _found_ Nick doesn’t mean it’s all going to be easy now. Somehow, she’d forgotten that.

“Hey, now, don’t look at me like that,” Nick grumbles.

Confused, Judith looks up again, and finds him looking not at her but at Hancock, who’s—he’s actually _pouting_ at the detective, puppy eyes and all.

“That won’t work on me every time, you know.”

“But is it working _this_ time?”

Nick sighs. “Well...maybe if I could talk to that woman and the Mister Handy, they could give me something more to go on.”

“ _There’s_ the Nick I know,” Hancock says with a grin.

“I’ll need a few days to get the office back in order before I can take off again. Think you can manage that long without getting into trouble?”

“Yeah, I oughta go back to Goodneighbor and let Fahr know I’ll be gone longer than I planned anyway. Got some loose ends to tie up myself.” He looks down at Judith. “You wanna come with me, or stay here?”

“With you,” she says instantly. He frowns, looking between her and Nick again. She realizes he probably thinks she doesn’t want to be alone with Nick again, and silently berates herself.

“Fine,” he says, tone suddenly harsh. “Let’s go, then. See you in a few days, Nick.”

She follows Hancock out of the city and on down the road towards Goodneighbor. She finds herself looking forward to it more than she’d expected—Diamond City is certainly a nice place, and seems much more well-protected, but the fact they keep ghouls out doesn’t sit right with her at all.

Hancock is silent as they walk, and when she looks up at him he’s frowning.

“Hancock? What’s wrong?”

"You accept ghouls with open arms the second you meet one, but you can't get over the fact synths exist," he grumbles. "Wouldn'tve expected that kinda shit from you."

"I...I know. I'm sorry."

"Not me you should be apologizing to, Dorothy."

It stings, somehow, him calling her that instead of Bluebird.

"I did," she says softly. "We talked while you were gone."

He nods, but doesn't acknowledge what she said otherwise.

"I think...see, Ruby worked with robots a lot. She always hated it when people talked about their Mister Handies and Miss Nannies like they were actual people, because she'd seen their insides and their programming, knew everything that made them tick. Said it was...'childish anthropomorphism,' in her words. So I guess that stuck with me." She frowns. "But even the Mister Handy in Sanctuary...Codsworth...it seemed so _sad_ when it talked to me. Why would it be programmed to act like that?"

"He wouldn't," Hancock says bluntly.

She curls in a little on herself at his tone, shoulders slumping. It cuts her much deeper than she'd like to admit that he's so disappointed in her.

They reach Goodneighbor without incident, and as soon as they're inside he heads for the State House.

"Gotta take care of some mayoral shit if I'm gonna be gone for a while. Tell Clair to set you up a room at the hotel and I'll pay her for it later."

"Hancock," she says as he turns the doorknob. "I'm sorry."

He looks over his shoulder, taking in the pain and guilt on her face, and sighs. "We're okay, Bluebird. Just..."

“I’ll do better,” she says. “I promise.”

Finally, he smiles at her again. “I know you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally we diverge in a bigger way from the main storyline from here on out~ nick is so much fun to write, you guys. just so much.
> 
> also check out the commission [cherett](http://cherett.tumblr.com/) did for me of judith [here](http://dovahkn.co.vu/post/139253456624/)! it's beautiful and i love it very much
> 
> and as always, come hang out with me on tumblr [here](http://dovahkn.co.vu)!


	8. Out of the Dark

She sets off for the hotel like Hancock suggested, Dogmeat trotting along at her feet. She can feel the stares of the drifters she passes following her down the street. She hears one whisper to another, catching only the word _“Hancock”._ It’s not surprising, she supposes, that they’d be gossiping about the mysterious stranger that ran off with their mayor, but somehow it makes her feel safer. If everyone knows Hancock has her back, nobody’s going to mess with her.

Inside she finds an older woman standing behind the desk, arguing with a man about something. She waits for him to leave before hesitantly approaching.

“Before you even start, let's skip to the point,” the bored-looking woman says before Judith can even open her mouth to speak. “We have rooms. One room, specifically. Payment due up front.”

“I, um,” Judith says. “Hancock told me to ask for a room and to say that he’d pay for it later?”

The woman’s expression sharpens, and she looks Judith up and down with sudden interest.

“So you’re the one they’re all talking about, huh? Don’t look like much to me. Well, he must see something in you, I guess. Anyway, sure, I’ll just take it out of his cut. Room’s on the top floor. When you come to the hallway, it’s the last one on the right.”

“Thank you,” Judith says, and the woman’s face softens a bit, but she says nothing more.

Judith climbs the stairs and finds her room. It’s not much, but it’s definitely cozier than where she’s been sleeping recently. There’s even a working lamp and a couch, which Dogmeat jumps onto immediately and curls up on to go to sleep. She only wishes she had something to read to pass the time—it’s getting late, and she’s definitely tired, but her mind is still racing and she can’t stop thinking about how she’d acted towards Nick earlier. She considers going down to the Third Rail and seeing Magnolia sing again, but she still has no money and would be embarrassed to take up a seat without buying anything.

Instead she sits on the bed and peers out of the window through the slats of wood covering it. She looks out over the ruins of Boston, for the first time able to just stare and process it without worrying that a raider is sneaking up behind her.

It’s still only been, for her, about two and a half weeks since the bombs fell—two and a half weeks since this was all clean roads and green trees and busy sidewalks. Times may have been hard and getting harder in the last few years, but people were still living and working and just... _existing._ And now they’re all gone.

_All except the ghouls,_ she thinks. And it hits her very suddenly that every feral out there is someone else from before the war. Someone she might have passed on the street one day, maybe even someone she’d spoken to or known.

She shudders, wishing the thought hadn’t occurred to her. What if they remember? What if some part of their old selves is still conscious in there, trapped and screaming voicelessly until they’re lucky enough to be put down by some traveler?

She can’t sit here alone with her thoughts anymore. She’d rather take the whispers and stares she’ll get on the street.

She makes her way back outside, looking around the town more slowly, really taking it all in for the first time. There’s the Old Howard Theatre, now with a sign below the marquee reading _Memory Den,_ whatever that is. She’s never been there herself—by the time she was born, it had already stopped hosting plays and operas and featured exclusively burlesque performers. Still, she remembers it as it was, whole and shining, and feels a deep ache in her chest.

She walks around the Old State House again, looking up at the balcony, then around the corner to the entrance. She hasn’t looked too closely at the shops yet. There’s a robot running one, and while she’s determined to try to be more open-minded, this one looks a little too intimidating for her just yet. There’s a ghoul in the other, looking bored and staring off into space. She brightens when she sees Judith approach.

"Oh, a new face walks into my store. And you're not even screaming yet. Very polite." She stops and squints a little. "Wait, I know you. You're that new girl that came into town the other day half-dead.”

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” Judith says.

“So, what’s your story? How’d you manage to convince our dear mayor to run off with you?”

Judith huffs a short laugh. “Didn’t exactly take much convincing,” she says. “More like he invited himself along.”

The ghoul chuckles. “Sounds like him. Well, I’m Daisy. You let me know if you need anything.”

“This might be a bit of a long shot but, um...do you know if any books survived the war?”

Daisy’s eyes widen. “Now that’s a new one. Never been asked _that_ before. Well, I do have an old library book I’ve been meaning to return.”

Judith laughs in surprise. “Wow. Imagine the late fees.”

Daisy grins. “I like you,” she says. “Well, if you promise you’ll take good care of it, I guess I can lend it to you for a few days.”

“That would be amazing.”

Daisy pulls out a dusty old book and hands it to her.

Judith looks down at the worn cover, just barely able to make out the title— _The Secret Garden._

“Oh! I’ve read this,” she says without thinking. “It used to be one of my favorites.”

Daisy squints at her suspiciously. “Now how exactly is that possible?”

Judith freezes. How much should she tell her? Can she trust her? She wants to very badly—Daisy is the friendliest person she’s met yet in Goodneighbor aside from Hancock, and she needs a friend right now.

“I’m, um...please don’t spread it around, but I’m from before the war.”

Daisy frowns. "Either you're the most well-preserved ghoul I've ever seen, or you're the second-best bullshitter in Goodneighbor."

“It’s true,” Judith insists. “I was...frozen in a vault. I just woke up a while ago.” She looks down at the book, caressing the spine gently with her thumb. “I used to volunteer for the library, actually. We might have even been there at the same time at some point.”

When she looks up Daisy is staring at her. “You’re not kidding,” she says.

Judith shakes her head. “For me, it’s only been a couple weeks since the war. I’m...still having a hard time adjusting.”

“Of course you are,” Daisy says kindly. “It’s been over two hundred years for me, and some days I still wake up thinking I’ll look outside and everything will be the way it used to be. Some part of me still expects to see green grass and flowers and trees with leaves on them.”

“ _Nature’s first green is gold,”_ Judith says quietly.  
“ _Her hardest hue to hold._  
_Her early leaf’s a flower;_  
_But only so an hour._  
_Then leaf subsides to leaf._  
_So Eden sank to grief,_  
_So dawn goes down to day._  
_Nothing gold can stay.”_

“I haven’t heard that in a very long time,” Daisy says quietly. “I...thank you. I’d forgotten...”

Someone clears their throat from behind Judith, and she jumps, turning around to see a man watching her impatiently.

“Be right with you,” Daisy says to him. She turns back to Judith for a moment. “You keep that as long as you need. And come talk to me again sometime.”

“Of course,” Judith says. She backs out of the store, then walks back to the hotel with the book clutched carefully in her arms and a smile on her face she can’t shake. She doesn’t feel so alone anymore. She doesn’t feel like an island in the middle of the sea now, like she’s the only one that remembers the past like it was.

She climbs the stairs two at a time, closes the door to her room behind her, and curls up in the armchair next to the lamp to read.

—

She wakes the next morning in the chair with a stiff neck and an even stiffer back. She groans, twisting herself around until she can stand up, and stretches.

She sighs and shakes her head at herself. She had the chance to sleep in an actual bed with an actual mattress after spending the night before on a couch, and she ends up doing this.

It’s not the first time she’s fallen asleep reading in an uncomfortable position, though.

She puts the book carefully in the dresser, then heads outside, Dogmeat following with a yawn. The sky is a bright blue already, and the breeze is slightly chilly but still feels good on her face. She just takes it in for a minute, closing her eyes. She can almost pretend everything is normal for a moment, until there’s raucous laughter from nearby and she opens her eyes again.

She heads for the State House without thinking, only remembering as she reaches the door that Hancock is probably still angry at her. She’s standing outside the door, chewing her lip and debating whether to go inside or not, when Hancock steps out of the building.

"Bluebird," he says in surprise. "Was just gonna come find you and see if you wanted somethin' to eat."

"I...yeah, okay," she says.

He leads her back inside and up the creaky stairs again. She sits on the edge of the couch stiffly, staring down at her lap.

He brings in their food and sits, eating in silence for a few minutes while Judith picks at her food.

"I gotta remember how new this shit is to you," he finally says. "I just get touchy when it comes to Nick. He gets enough shit for being a synth already, you feel me? But you don't know how fucked up the world really is yet, and I can't expect you to."

"That doesn't make it okay," she says softly. "How I treated him."

When she looks up hesitantly, he's looking at her with that proud little smile again. She has no idea what she's done to deserve it, but it warms her all the same.

"Knew I liked you for a reason," he says. "Not a lot of folks will own up to their mistakes and take responsibility like that."

"We're really okay, then?"

"We're just fine."

—

After breakfast she watches him work for a while, but staring at him hunched over the keyboard squinting at the screen is only amusing for so long. She retrieves her book from her hotel room and reads on the couch near him instead, and Dogmeat goes to curl up at Hancock’s feet instead of hers for once. She finds herself enjoying the comfortable silence.

He sighs after a while, rubbing his temples and pushing away from the desk.

“If I’d known how much of this bullshit came with being the mayor, I might not have taken this damn job.” He looks back at her. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, Daisy lent this to me,” she says.

He grins. “Oh yeah? Makin’ friends already, huh?” He scoots his chair over to lean on the back of the couch, peering down at the book.

“It used to be one of my favorite books. You know, before the war. It’s very good. You could read it when I’m done,” she offers. His face falls and he looks away suddenly.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it, but it’d take me weeks to read that,” he says. “I’m a pretty slow reader. Takes me forever to type shit up on the computer already. Words just don’t like to stay in one place for me.” He forces a smile as he looks back at her. “Told you you’d be the brains of this operation.”

She frowns at him. “Wait, what do you mean words don’t stay in one place?”

He sighs. “Like the letters move, or they get switched around. Not really something I like talking about.”

“Hancock,” she says slowly, “there’s a name for that. It’s called dyslexia.”

He blinks back at her. “What?”

She puts the book down in her lap. “Dyslexia. Like you said, the words move around on the page, letters switch places, sometimes people even see them backwards—that’s not your fault, and it doesn’t mean you’re less intelligent. A lot of people have it. It just means your brain is wired a little differently.”

He stares at her. “You’re not just tryin’ to make me feel better?”

She huffs. “Of course not. I had a friend in high school that had it.”

He looks away like he has to process the information.

“Thanks,” he says quietly after a little while. Impulsively, she reaches up and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. He smiles down at her, and she could almost swear he’s about to cry.

“I gotta...I gotta get back to work,” he says.

She just nods, letting him go, and turns back to her book.

He takes her down to eat at the Third Rail again that night, though he’s still quiet and thoughtful. She goes straight back to the hotel afterward, letting him be alone for a while.

He’s cheerful again after that, holding himself confidently and smiling more. She spends the next couple days either reading in the room with him or chatting with Daisy, reminiscing about how things were before the war and their old favorite books. Dogmeat roams the town freely, making friends with everyone. Even the toughest and meanest of the watch can’t help but fall in love with the dog, and with all the scraps people feed him, Judith is sure he’s going to get fat and spoiled if they stay too long. She finishes the book and returns it to Daisy, and then she has nothing to do with herself. She’s getting restless, and she misses her sister.

“Think we’ll be able to leave tomorrow,” Hancock says finally over lunch the third day they’re there.

“Oh, thank god,” she says.

“Is it really that bad here?” he teases with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No, not at all,” she says quickly. “I love it here, I do. Just...my sister is still somewhere out there, and I’m sitting here doing nothing.”

His face softens and he nods. “You know, you still haven’t told me anything about her,” he says.

“She’s...well, she’s amazing,” Judith says with a smile. “She’s so smart, and she’s an amazing cook. She was very strict about my schooling, but she was always so proud of me. She always came to my plays, even though she didn’t really enjoy them. When...” She sets her plate down on the table and curls up, tucking her feet under herself.

“When she was still alive,” she says quietly, “our ma used to braid our hair all the time. Ruby would go first because she was older, and then it’d be my turn. Ma would sing for us while she did it. She had such a beautiful voice, Hancock. I wish you could have heard it. She’s the reason I got into singing. Her favorite song to sing us was always Lavender’s Blue.”

She takes a deep breath, shaking her head. “Anyway, Ma braiding our hair was my favorite thing in the world. No matter how bad my day had been, it could make me feel like everything was right in the world. And then she died, and I thought I’d never have that again. Then one day Ruby got home from work, and I could tell she was stressed and tired so I went to my room to leave her alone. A few minutes later she came in and sat on the bed next to me and just started braiding my hair. Then she started singing. She never liked singing like Ma and I did, and she didn’t have a great voice, but she tried. She didn’t do it all the time after that, but now and then when one of us had a bad day...”

“She sounds great, Bluebird,” Hancock says softly after she trails off into silence. Judith looks up at him, just now realizing she’s been crying and her face is wet. She wipes the tears away, embarrassed.

“We’ll find her,” he says. “Okay?”

“You don’t know that,” she whispers.

He gets up suddenly from the other couch, coming to sit next to her instead. He takes her chin in his hand and tilts it up until he’s looking in her eyes.

“I promise, Bluebird. We’ll find her.”

And god help her, she believes him.

—

The next day they set off for Diamond City. Daisy gives Judith a hug before they leave, slipping a few things into Hancock’s pockets and having a heated, whispered conversation with him. Hancock won’t tell Judith what it was about, only laughing and shaking his head when she asks.

There’s a few raiders in their path, but nothing Hancock and Dogmeat can’t handle. She’s nervous when they arrive at Diamond City, but the guards let them in with little more than irritated grumbles and glares.

Nick is ready to leave when they find him. Both he and Hancock hug Ellie before they leave, promising her they’ll take care of each other.

They set off back for Sanctuary together, all four of them, and Judith is more comfortable than she’s been since she left Preston and the others behind. She feels _safe_ with them. Dogmeat trots at her heels while Nick and Hancock lead, Hancock more often than not teasing Nick about something and Nick more often than not rolling his eyes and trying not to smile. It’s a gorgeous day, sun warm on her skin and a sweet, gentle breeze in her hair.

For once, she’s the one that knows where to go, but she’s happy to give directions from the back of the group. The few raiders and angry dogs they come across are swiftly dispatched without her having to lift a finger.

She’s more excited with every step they take—she can’t wait to see Preston again, to hear his laughter and tell him all about what’s happened to her so far. She has a bizarre urge to link arms with her friends and skip the rest of the way there.

Not that they’d go along with it. Well, Hancock might.

He probably would, wouldn’t he?

“Down there,” she calls out as they reach the little hill she climbed up to get to the railroad tracks. She frowns, thinking back. “It might not still be here, but a little further ahead when I came out here the first time there was this big...thing. It looked like a bear, but it was all deformed and mangy...”

“A yao guai,” Nick says. “We’ll keep an eye out.”

“You ran into a yao guai?” Hancock says, looking back at her with a frown and slowing a bit to match her pace. “And lived?”

“It didn’t see me,” she says. “I heard it before it could, and we snuck past.”

He still looks upset, and she can’t figure out why. “Nothing happened,” she insists.

“Could’ve,” he mutters. “Woulda torn you apart in seconds in those rags you’re wearing.”

Impulsively, she reaches out and sets her hand gently on his shoulder. “I’m fine,” she says. “And now I have all of you here to protect me, don’t I?”

He finally smiles again. “’Course. You got nothing to worry about with me covering you.”

“Hancock,” Nick calls from up ahead. “Think I see it. Dorothy, you stay back.”

She hears it now—that awful growling, the shuffling of huge paws through dry grass.

“Get your gun out, but stay here,” Hancock murmurs before catching up with Nick.

She does as she’s told, looking down at Dogmeat, who seems to have elected to stay and protect her. She’s glad he won’t be going face to face with the thing, anyway.

She ducks down low as it catches sight of Nick and Hancock, rearing up on its hind legs threateningly.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. It’s larger than she’d even remembered. Her friends are already shooting, pouring bullets into it that don’t seem to be stopping it at all. It roars furiously, falling back onto all fours with a loud thud and charging at them. She claps her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

Hancock just laughs and dances out of the way as Nick dives to the side. They alternate getting its attention, drawing it back and forth between them like they’re playing tennis. Judith lets herself relax a bit, starts to smile. They’ve obviously got this covered.

Dogmeat whimpers suddenly. A second later, Hancock trips as he’s dodging backwards and goes sprawling out on the ground. The yao guai is on him in an instant, snarling.

“No!” she cries out. Without thinking, she stands and runs down the hill.

“Dorothy, get back!” Nick shouts, but she’s caught the beast’s attention already. It’s not moving away from Hancock, but it’s startled and staring at her. Hancock takes the split-second chance and rolls out from under it, scrambling away.

“Come on, ugly, come get some!” he yells, but it isn’t looking away from Judith.

It seems to shake itself out of its stupor, and then it’s coming at her. She raises the gun automatically and fires, but the bullets seem to disappear into its thick hide. She turns and runs, watching the ground for anything that could trip her, trying not to make the same mistake Hancock did, but it’s gaining on her quickly. She can hear its heavy panting getting closer by the second. Then there’s another sound—four smaller paws in the grass. She turns her head in time to see Dogmeat launch himself at the yao guai’s hindquarters.

It roars in shock and anger and turns around again. Dogmeat darts around to its other side and nips at it, then again when it turns back around, playing keep-away rather than trying to fight it.

With the beast’s attention elsewhere again, Judith takes a knee to aim more carefully.

She hears Nick and Hancock running towards them, but it could be only seconds before the thing either turns on her again or Dogmeat falls behind just a little bit and gets himself hurt.

“Come on,” she whispers. “Give me an opening, boy.”

The dog leaps to the side again, now in between Judith and the yao guai, waits for it to turn and face them, then darts forward to snap at it and jumps back again. It rears up on its hind legs.

_There_ —this is the best chance she’s going to get. She aims upwards, right at the point where head meets neck, and squeezes the trigger.

There’s a _crack_ as the bullet hits, and she springs up and starts running back towards Hancock and Nick. The loud slam behind her could either be the body falling or it getting ready to charge again, and she’s not going to stop to find out which. She only turns around again once she’s behind Hancock.

He slows to a walk, then stops, staring at the yao guai where it lies still on the ground.

Nick approaches slowly. When the thing doesn’t move, he leans over to look at its neck.

“Well?” Hancock says tensely.

“I don’t believe it,” Nick mutters. Hancock cautiously walks to meet him, frowning down at him.

“Don’t believe what?”

“She hit the damn spine.”

They look up at the same time and stare at her.

Dogmeat trots back to her side, looking very proud of himself. She reaches down to pet him.

“Good boy,” she whispers. “Saving my life again.”

“Don’t know how you did it, but I’m glad you did,” Nick says, holstering his weapon and walking over to her. “Must be pretty lucky.”

She laughs softly, still a little out of breath. “I’d have to be to have lived this long out here.”

He nods, looking back at the body. Hancock is still standing by it, eyes narrowed as he looks it over.

“Hancock?” she says.

“It’d be a shame to let all this meat go to waste,” he mutters. Judith can practically feel the blood drain from her face.

“You’re going to butcher it? Here?”

He looks up at her. “Why not? Bet your friends’ll appreciate some roast yao guai if all they got right now is vegetables and Cram to eat.”

“You go ahead and do that. Shout if you need us. We’ll be over here,” Nick says, taking Judith gently by the arm and leading her away until they can’t see the corpse anymore.

“How you holding up, kid?” he says.

She blinks up at him, startled. “I’m fine,” she says automatically, then hesitates. “I mean...I’m not _fine,_ I guess, but...I’m doing better than I was before.”

“Good, good,” he says. “I know this has to be hard for you.”

“It is, but...” She looks back at the hill they came down, though she can’t see Hancock from where they stand. “I’ve made some really good friends already, and that helps a lot.”

He hums in agreement, though he’s watching her more thoughtfully when she turns back to him.

When Hancock comes back down the hill, he’s grinning proudly, a strip of the yao guai’s hide slung over his shoulders that seems to be filled with cuts of meat.

“Hope someone up there can cook,” he says.

“Mama Murphy can. If we hurry we can get there before she starts cooking dinner.”

“Mama Murphy,” Nick echoes as they head off again, Hancock in the lead. “That’s the woman that claims to have the Sight?”

Judith bristles at the word _claims_ , but she just nods.

He seems to sense it anyway. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you, kid, but in my line of work, you have to stay skeptical. If it’s true, I’ll find out soon enough, and you’ll be welcome to tell me _I told you so_ all you want.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Don’t worry, I’m a gracious winner. I’ll just look very smug for a while.”

He chuckles.

They reach Concord without any more trouble, and though they slow down just in case, no raiders seem to have moved back in.

“Almost there,” she whispers to Dogmeat. She could swear he looks as excited as she feels.

As they crest the hill, she sees the guard tower, now fully finished. It’s Jun, surprisingly, standing atop it and looking down at them.

She waves, and even from here she can see the surprise on his face.

“Preston!” he calls out behind him. “Hey, Preston, you should see this!”

She can’t hear what he’s saying, but she hears Preston’s voice as he approaches.

She runs ahead of the group, reaching the bridge just as Preston comes around the guard tower.

His eyes widen. “Dorothy?” Then he drops his weapon and he’s grinning and running towards her, and a second later he’s got her tight in his arms, picking her up and swinging her around. She throws her arms around his neck and laughs in delight, almost deliriously happy to see him safe and whole. He seems to feel the same way.

When he puts her down he’s still beaming, looking her up and down carefully. “You’re okay,” he whispers. “You’re really okay.”

“Not a scratch,” she says, smiling. _“And_ I’ve picked up some new friends.” Nick and Hancock are standing a few feet away now, watching them. Nick is smiling in amusement, but Hancock is just staring between her and Preston. Dogmeat bounds between them to jump up on Preston, trying desperately to lick his face. Preston chuckles and bends over to accommodate him for a second before straightening again.

“This is Nick Valentine, from Diamond City,” she says. Preston holds out a hand for Nick to shake.

“I’ve heard of you,” Preston says with a smile. “Lot of good things. I guess they must be true if you’re out here helping Dorothy.”

“And Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor,” she continues. Preston’s face falls a little, and she frowns in confusion.

“Guess you’ve heard of me, too,” Hancock says bitterly.

“Yes, I have,” Preston says coldly. “Dorothy, are you sure—”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sturges says from behind Preston. “Look who’s back!” He comes out on the bridge with a wide grin to give her a hug, too.

Mama Murphy follows him out. “You see? I told you,” she says.

“Yeah, I know,” Preston says, smiling. “You said she’d be fine.”

“Not that.” She laughs. “I told you dinner was going to be delivery tonight. Bring those over here and I’ll start cooking them up.”

Hancock and Nick both look shocked for a second, sharing a glance before looking at Judith. She carefully keeps her face composed, blinking back at them innocently.

Finally they cross the bridge into town, and Hancock, Nick and Preston walk off with Mama Murphy towards the cooking fire. Dogmeat stays pressed close to Mama Murphy’s side.

Jun looks down from the top of the tower with a small smile. “It’s good to see you,” he says.

“You too. How are you doing?”

“Oh, we’re doing pretty good. The crops are healthy, Sturges is fixing up the houses...yeah, we’re doing all right.”

“That’s great to hear,” she says gently. “But how are _you_ doing?”

He looks down at his feet and swallows hard, but his smile doesn’t fade. “Better, yeah. It’s hard, but being here...I’m starting to feel like things are going to be okay again. Not yet, but someday.”

“Good,” she says. “I’m really glad to hear that.” She hears footsteps again, and turns to see Marcy standing by the side of the road, watching her. Judith nods to Jun with a smile and walks over to meet Marcy.

“Hey,” Marcy says. “I’m, uh...glad to see you’re okay. And I don’t know what you said to Jun before you left, but it helped. So...thanks. Again.”

Judith smiles and nods as Marcy shifts her weight uncomfortably. She knows Marcy is probably desperate for this not to turn into an emotional conversation, so she heads for the rest of the group and lets Marcy get back to her work.

God, it’s so good to see them all again. It’s like a load she didn’t realize she was carrying has been lifted—all her new friends are gathered together in one place, whole and safe and happy.

Well, mostly happy. When she reaches the cooking fire—where Sturges has also set up one of the old grills, apparently—Hancock and Preston are standing on opposite sides of the group, staring at each other and frowning as Nick chats pleasantly with Mama Murphy.

When they finally sit down to eat in one of the houses, a few tables pushed together to make space for all of them, Hancock immediately sits next to Judith. Preston frowns for a moment before sitting at Judith’s other side.

She can’t figure out Preston’s problem with Hancock. From what she’s seen so far, he’s one of the better people out here in the Commonwealth—protecting the innocent, taking care of his people, and now dropping everything to help Judith for no reason other than...well, what? Why _is_ he doing this for her? She frowns down at her plate in thought.

“Dorothy? Aren’t you hungry?” Preston asks.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry, I’m...just tired.”

“We’ll turn in after we finish eating,” he says. “It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to again. Falling asleep alone was getting boring.”

Hancock stands suddenly, taking his plate with him.

“Hancock?” Judith says.

“Gonna go eat outside,” he grumbles. “Too crowded.”

She watches in confusion as he leaves.

Preston sighs next to her. “I don’t know what you’re doing traveling with him. He’s trouble, Dorothy.”

“What are you talking about? He’s been saving my life since I met him. The first thing he _did_ was save me from some creep trying to rob me.”

“I’m not saying he’s all bad,” Preston says reluctantly. “I’ve heard a lot about him, and I know he’s done a lot for his people. But Goodneighbor...it’s a dangerous place, you know. It’s full of criminals and killers. And that’s not even mentioning the drugs.”

“Drugs?”

He frowns. “You haven’t noticed? Goodneighbor’s a town of junkies, and Hancock is the worst one. You can’t let him get you hooked, too.”

She bristles. “He hasn’t offered me a single thing like that, and I don’t think he would _ever_ pressure me to do something I didn’t want to do. And I’m surprised at you, judging people for that kind of thing. I thought you were all about tolerance.”

“Dorothy...”

“I think it’s a little crowded in here for me, too,” she says, picking up her plate and walking out of the house. She looks around, finally seeing Hancock sitting on the broken sidewalk a few houses down, watching the sunset as the sky turns blush-pink. She hesitates for a moment. What if he wants to be alone?

Then he glances over and sees her carrying her plate, and though his eyes widen in surprise, he smiles. She smiles back and walks over, sitting next to him.

“Miss me that much?” he teases.

She grins and rolls her eyes at him.

They eat in silence for a while, but she can’t stop thinking over what Preston had said. She finally decides to just come out with it.

“Preston was talking about you,” she says. He stiffens beside her.

“Oh yeah? This oughta be good.”

She sighs. “I just...I couldn’t sit there and listen to him talk about Goodneighbor like it’s this evil place, when it’s one of the only places out here I’ve really felt safe. And calling you _trouble_ when you’ve done nothing but protect me, and calling you a junkie like that should even matter to me.”

She turns her head to find him watching her.

“That doesn’t bother you?” he says. “Kinda thought an innocent little thing like you wouldn’t be too happy about that. S'why I've tried not to do it in front of you.”

She finishes her food and sets her plate down.

“I was an actress before the war,” she says, tucking her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. “I did a lot of fundraising plays for charity. Ruby thought it was silly, but I could never say no, you know? So after one of them, I started volunteering with the alcohol and drug rehab program we’d raised money for. The more I got to know the people there, the more I couldn’t stand to hear people talk about them like they were... _lesser,_ I guess. They were just people. They were just as funny and smart and kind and loving as anyone else, you know?”

She looks up at him again. “I’m not saying I think drugs are _good_ things, but they don’t make you a bad person.”

He just stares at her for a long time, and she thinks at first she’s said something wrong and upset him again. He finally sets his plate down on the sidewalk too, then leans over and wraps an arm around her shoulder and squeezes.

“Means a lot coming from you, Bluebird,” he says softly.

They watch the sun set after that without another word for a long time. She looks up at him and is suddenly transfixed, seeing all the colors reflected in his glittering eyes—deep purple, orange, pink, and a fading sliver of blue.

He glances down at her after a minute, blinking in surprise when he sees her watching him. “What, I got something on my face?”

“The sky,” she mumbles sleepily. “It’s in your eyes.”

“How tired are you? Think you’re gettin’ delirious on me.”

She shakes her head, but can’t find the words to explain. The colors are fading, but she still can’t look away. She feels like if she just looks long enough, she’ll find the stars caught in the depths of his eyes, too.

Then someone’s shaking her awake, and she hears Preston’s voice.

“Come on, Dorothy, let’s get you into bed,” he says gently.

She grumbles and turns her head, burying her face into Hancock’s coat. He’s warm and smells nice, and she doesn’t want to move. He chuckles.

Then there’s an arm under her legs, and Hancock is standing. The rhythm of his steps as he carries her lulls her back to sleep.

The last thing she hears before drifting off again is a softly whispered “Goodnight, Bluebird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @GloriousGarbage i have had that scene written for ALMOST TWO WEEKS and you predicted it almost exactly?? i'm not sure whether you have the Sight or whether maybe i'm just getting predictable ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> everybody come hangout with me on tumblr [here](http://dovahkn.co.vu)~


	9. That's You All Over

When she wakes up the next morning, the bed across the room is already empty. The room is bathed in gold, dust motes dancing in the rays of sunlight that slant through the holes in the wall. It must be late morning already. She’s embarrassed she slept so long, but grateful that they let her. She hadn’t even realized how tired she’d been.

She lies there just relaxing for a few more minutes before finally getting up, yawning and stretching luxuriously like a cat, and leaving the house. She sees Preston patrolling at the far end of the street near the old elm tree, Codsworth as always busying himself with silently tidying up the house that used to belong to his family, and Marcy and Jun weeding crops together, talking softly. When Judith walks a little ways down the street she sees it’s Sturges up in the watchtower today and waves at him. He grins and waves back, then points off to the side. She’s not sure what he’s trying to tell her, but she walks in the direction he’s pointing anyway.

When she comes around the side of the last house on the lane, she’s surprised to find Nick and Hancock, sitting on the dead grass next to the riverbank and talking. They stop and look up at her as she approaches, both smiling.

“Am I interrupting?” she says.

“’Course not,” Hancock says. “Pull up a chair.”

She grins and shakes her head, but sits down next to him anyway. He and Nick go back to talking—it sounds like they’re reminiscing about something, mostly references she doesn’t understand. It’s pleasant background noise for her while she enjoys the warmth of the sun on her face. When she puts her hands on the ground behind her to lean back after a few minutes, she hits a smooth, flat stone. She grabs it and holds it up thoughtfully, brushing the dirt off of it, then looks out over the river. The surface of the water is smooth, barely disturbed by the wind. It looks surprisingly clean, considering she knows it’s actually heavily irradiated.

She stands suddenly. Hancock and Nick cut off mid-conversation to look up at her.

Ignoring them, she takes a few steps closer to the side of the river, gripping the stone firmly. She turns to the side, bends her knees a little, then with a quick motion of her arm and flick of her wrist, she sends the stone skipping over the river’s surface. It bounces five times before sinking with a splash. She smiles to herself and looks back to see if she can find another good stone.

Hancock is already handing her one, grinning in excitement. Nick just smiles at them in fond amusement.

“My brother and I used to do this all the time,” Hancock says, standing up and brushing off the back of his coat. He throws another stone up into the air and catches it, positioning it in his palm expertly. “Might be a little rusty.”

He lines up the shot and throws, managing seven skips, and turns back to smirk at her cockily.

“Oh, it’s _on,_ Scarecrow,” she says.

At first they take turns with just light teasing, but when he realizes he’s losing, Hancock starts playing dirty. He taps her on the shoulder just as she releases a shot, and she retaliates by faking a very loud sneeze just as he’s throwing, making him jump. He pretends to trip and bump into her, and in turn she knocks the back of his hat up so it falls over his eyes. At some point in the battle Nick leaves, though neither of them really notice.

Finally, he grabs her by the waist before she can throw another stone and tickles her until she collapses, giggling and shrieking.

“Say it,” he says. “Say I win.”

“Fine, fine,” she gasps, and he relents, propping himself up on his palms above her, grinning triumphantly. She takes a deep breath, and says “I win.”

“What? No, that’s not—”

She giggles. “That’s what you told me to say! I did exactly what you said!”

“Why you _little...”_ He sits back and raises his hands over her stomach again threateningly.

Someone clears their throat from behind them, and they both look up to see Preston standing at the top of the riverbank, looking uncomfortable. Hancock scrambles away from Judith immediately. Judith frowns and stands, brushing herself off. She’s _covered_ in dirt.

“So, uh,” Preston says, looking pointedly anywhere but at Hancock. “I wanted to ask you something, but you seem...busy.”

“I’ll go find Nick,” Hancock grumbles. “Don’t worry about me.”

Judith watches him walk away with slumped shoulders. She frowns in confusion.

Preston looks slightly guilty when she turns back to him, but shakes it off. “We haven’t done anything with your old house yet,” he says. “We didn’t feel like it was right to do it without you. But since you’re back...I was wondering if you were ready to help us salvage what we can.”

She feels cold again, suddenly, as if she’s coming back to reality—the reality where it’s a chilly mid-November morning and her sweat is cooling rapidly on her skin, the reality where her old life burned and now she has to wade back into the ashes.

“Yeah, sure,” she says. “It’s...it’s about time.”

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to,” he says gently.

She forces a smile. “No, I’m okay. Maybe I’ll feel better without it just sitting there reminding me of everything anyway.”

He smiles kindly. “That’s a good attitude. Mama Murphy saved you some breakfast. Go eat, then meet me by the house and we can get started.”

She nods and follows him back into the settlement, looking around for Nick and Hancock and not finding them anywhere. She frowns. She would really have appreciated their help with this.

She finds Mama Murphy in the house she shares with Sturges, Dogmeat by her side. Judith takes the food and thanks her, then goes to find somewhere outside to sit and eat. She _likes_ Mama Murphy, but spending too much time alone with her is still unnerving. She never knows when to expect some drastic new prediction or some creepy insight into Judith’s past. She’d rather be alone with her thoughts.

As she’s almost done, Nick and Hancock come wandering out of the woods and catch sight of her. Hancock frowns.

“Thought you were with Preston,” he says.

“He just asked me to do something. I could actually use your help, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” he says immediately.

“Help with what?” Nick says.

She looks down into her bowl and sighs.

“Salvaging my old house. They haven’t touched it while I’ve been gone, but they need all the material they can get, so...”

“We’d be happy to help,” Nick says gently.

Hancock helps her up, and after returning her bowl they walk together towards her old house, where Preston stands staring down at the rubble thoughtfully.

“Sometimes I forget how much you’ve lost,” he says as they approach. He looks up and meets her eyes. “I mean, I’ve lost a lot in my life—I think everyone has nowadays—but you? You lost your entire world. I keep forgetting that. I just...want you to know how proud I am of you for coming as far as you have.”

“I’m just surviving,” she says softly, embarrassed.

“Hey, don’t say that like it’s nothing,” Hancock says. “Sometimes just surviving out here is the bravest thing you can do.”

She covers her face and laughs nervously. “Okay, can we get to work? You guys are going to make me cry again.”

She hears Hancock chuckle from behind her, then Preston squeezes her shoulder gently.

Judith knows the drill by now. The wagon will be pulled up onto the sidewalk to collect the sheet metal siding, while what’s left of the beams of the house will be piled off to one side, all the wood parts on the other side. The remains of old furniture and fixtures will go on the sidewalk to be gone over more carefully for small parts. With the radio on, Judith manages to forget it’s her own house they’re working on while they’re still just clearing the collapsed walls and roof.

“Careful,” she says as Hancock reaches for a piece of siding. “You can cut yourself really easily on these. They’re sharper than they look.”

“Like this?” he says, holding up a piece of siding with what looks like an old blood stain on the side. She frowns.

“I...yeah. Where would that have come from?”

He shrugs. “Some scavenger combing through the area probably got a little too greedy.”

She nods, but as she goes back to work, she can’t help but think about the fact that when she and the settlers came here, there was still a lot to salvage—plenty of small things a smart scavenger would have taken on their way through. Why would they pass over all of that to pick through a single broken-down house?

But then the walls and roof are done, and Judith has to come to terms again with the fact that this is _her_ life they’re scrapping for parts. She stares down at the debris, putting it all together in her mind like puzzle pieces. There’s the shattered lamp that used to sit next to the coffee table, which is in splinters there, right in front of the torn remnants of the couch that she used to...

“I was sleeping here,” she says, stepping inside and carefully kneeling next to it. “I woke up to people just...screaming and yelling outside, and I was so confused and disoriented. I almost just put the pillow over my head and went back to sleep. I guess if I had, I’d be...”

When she looks back, all three of them are staring at her with stricken expressions.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m being depressing, aren’t I?”

“This is hard for you,” Nick says softly. “We understand.”

“You do what you gotta. Take your time,” Hancock says.

She nods, looking around again. Her breath catches.

“Oh, no,” she says. In an instant she’s up and across the room, sinking down again next to what _used_ to be...

“My piano,” she whimpers, and she can feel the tears coming finally. She picks up a handful of the beautiful old ivory keys, now a dull yellow-brown, and begins to cry.

Strong arms wrap around her from behind, and she thinks it’s Preston, but she can’t look right now. All she can see are the keys.

Then there’s the crunch and crack of more footsteps, and Hancock squats down in front of her. Gently, he picks another key up off of the floor and turns it over in his hands.

“You know,” he murmurs, “you could make somethin’ beautiful out of these with a good knife.”

She sniffs. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Could carve these into something nice, if you wanna hold onto them.”

“Yeah, okay,” she whispers. He gives her a small, sad smile, then starts to gather up the rest of the pieces. She hands him all but one, slipping it into her pocket. She lets them handle gathering the rest of the piano, working on the kitchen area instead so she doesn’t have to watch. It’s easy enough to distance herself when all she’s dealing with is old chunks of the table and chairs and counters.

Then the living and kitchen areas are done, and they break for lunch. When they return, her room is next. She can’t trick herself into being objective anymore.

Her bed is ripped to shreds, of course. Preston gathers up the pieces of her fluffy pink comforter with unusual care, carrying them off somewhere before returning. In the meantime, they gather pieces of the wooden bed frame that had once been a clean, bright white, then the mattress itself. Her dresser is overturned on the floor, and looks surprisingly intact. Hancock grunts with effort as they flip it back upright.

“Fuck, this thing is heavy,” he says. “Did you keep bricks in here?”

She shakes her head. “It was my grandpa’s. It’s an antique. I mean...I guess technically _all_ of this is antique now, but no, it’s just really thick wood.”

“Looks like it held up pretty well,” Nick says, sounding impressed.

She nods, not daring to hope, as she reaches for the drawers.

She opens the bottom middle drawer first, knowing the things she _really_ cares about are down there.

“Oh my god,” she says as she peers inside.

“I’m sorry,” Preston says sadly. “I know it must—”

“No, this is...I can’t believe it!”

Judith pulls the blue gingham dress out, staring at it in awe, eyes wide. “It made it,” she says.

“What is it?” Hancock says, peering a little closer.

“It’s pretty,” Preston says uncertainly.

“My costume, for D—for my favorite play, the most important role I ever did. I can’t believe it’s still...there’s not even a single tear in it.”

Hancock rifles through the drawers. “Looks like everything in here made it. More dresses, skirts, shirts, p— _oh.”_

When she looks up he’s slamming the top drawer shut, looking guilty.

She frowns for a second, processing what just happened. Then—

“Hancock!” She glares at him, cheeks flushing.

“How was I supposed to know those would be in there?”

“Where _else_ would they be?”

Preston sighs and shakes his head. “I’m going to go get Sturges. Maybe with all of us, we can just lift this thing out of here and carry it into the other house. No need to scrap it.”

Judith stares down at the dress in her hands as her cheeks burn, refusing to look up at Hancock.

“Got good taste, though,” he finally says. “Love the pink lace.”

She looks up in time to see Nick smack Hancock on the back of the head with his good hand, knocking the tricorner hat out of place.

“Thank you, Nick,” she says.

“Anytime,” he says, tipping his hat to her.

Hancock fixes his hat and is still grumbling when Preston returns with Sturges and Marcy.

“Afraid I won’t be much good here,” Nick says. “Dorothy, can I talk with you?”

“Of course, Nick,” she says, clutching the dress carefully to her chest and following him. Surprisingly, he leads her far down the street and back behind one of the houses. What could he possibly need to take her all this way for? What does he have to say that’s so important nobody else can hear it?

He lights a cigarette first, taking a long, slow drag of it. She’s more confused with every moment she stands there waiting.

“So,” he says. “Something I haven’t told you about me. Well, I guess I haven’t told you anything about me, have I? Anyway, all you need to know is that I know a lot about the world before the war. Maybe as much as you, even if I don’t remember all of it too well nowadays. Know a decent amount about old music, books...movies. And that,” he says with a gesture of his cigarette towards the dress in her arms, “is a pretty damn big coincidence, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” she says, swallowing hard. God, she should have known she couldn’t keep this up forever.

He looks at her silently, expectantly, waiting her out as his cigarette burns down.

“You already knew,” she says softly.

“I suspected. Knew you looked familiar, couldn’t place where. While you two were off in Goodneighbor, I did a little more digging.”

He pulls an old, worn playbill out of his coat. _“The Wizard of Oz,”_ it reads. _“Starring Judith Harper as Dorothy at the Footlight Club in Jamaica Plain.”_ An artist’s rendition of her smiling in her blue dress and red slippers stares back at her.

“The costume just confirmed it,” he says. “What I want to know is why you lied.”

“I don’t know,” she admits, then pauses, trying to gather her thoughts. He waits patiently for her to continue. “I still thought I was dreaming when I told Preston my name, and I wasn’t thinking straight. It was days before it started to really sink in that it _wasn’t_ a dream, and I was too embarrassed to tell him the truth by then. Then I just...kept using it, I guess. Maybe it felt like I was protecting myself somehow, like...a kind of shield, or a mask.”

He sighs. “As far as lies go, it’s a pretty harmless one, but you came to me for help and then kept important information from me. You think your sister’s going to respond if I’m out there hunting for Dorothy’s sister instead? Keep up the act with everyone else all you want, but I need the truth, or I can’t help you.”

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, I...I didn’t even think of that.”

“Any other secrets I should know about?”

“No,” she says hurriedly. “No, I promise. I’m—that’s me, I’m Judith Harper. I was born in Chelmsford, and my sister’s name is Ruby. She’s nine years older than me. She worked for General Atomics programming software for the robots. My daddy died in the Army when I was fourteen, then a couple years later Ma died in a car crash and we moved here. I finished school and started acting and volunteering around the city, and...and that’s it until the bombs hit.”

He nods, silent for a minute. “I think it’s time I had that talk with Codsworth,” he finally says. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him alone so nobody hears him say your name.”

She nods, looking down at her feet.

“Not going to tell you what to do, but you know they wouldn’t care,” he says more gently. “They might be a little confused, but it wouldn’t change what they think of you.”

“Maybe,” she says, finally meeting his eyes. “I’ll...I’ll think about it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “So if Hancock is the Scarecrow, does that make me the Tin Man?”

That startles a laugh out of her, and he smiles.

“There she is,” he says. “Come on, let’s get back.”

When they reach the house again, Preston and Hancock are waiting for them, watching them approach curiously. Judith just shakes her head at Hancock’s questioning look.

He shrugs, then nods his head down to a pile at his feet. “Thought you’d be pretty happy about these.”

She looks down to find a pile of relatively intact books that must have been rescued from the smashed old bookshelf. She drops to her knees to look through them, flipping carefully through the pages to make sure they’re all still readable before she lets herself get too excited. There’s not many, only about a dozen, but it’s a dozen more than she thought she’d ever have back again.

“This is great,” she says, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt.

“We can put them on the dresser for now, but maybe we could build you a new shelf sometime,” Preston says.

“For twelve books?” she says.

“You never know,” Nick says. “We might find more. You’d be surprised what can survive out here.” He winks at her as she looks up at him.

She folds up Dorothy’s dress carefully and lays it on the books to take to the other house later. Her smile fades as she turns and looks at the last room—her sister’s. Everyone goes quiet as she steps over the threshold. Her shoes crunch on broken glass as she passes the spot where Ruby’s beautiful vanity had stood. Her eyes widen as she sees a little blue bottle near her feet that looks completely whole. She picks it up carefully.

“What’s that?” Hancock murmurs behind her.

“Her old perfume,” she says softly. She holds it up and tilts it in the light, then sighs. “It’s empty.”

Still, she unscrews the lid and sniffs, hoping there might still be at least a faint lingering scent. She smells nothing but dust.

She doesn’t even have it left in her to cry again today. She just shakes her head and drops the bottle back onto the floor. Ruby’s dresser is overturned too, but in much worse shape than hers had been. Still, they prop it up anyway so she can look through the drawers to see what might be left.

It’s empty. She frowns in confusion, looking around the floor nearby.

“It shouldn’t be empty,” she says. “Why is it empty?”

“That piece of wall with the bloodstain,” Nick says. “You got it from around here, right, Hancock?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why?”

Nick hums thoughtfully. Judith meets his eyes, but he shakes his head. “Just thinking.”

Judith is pretty sure she knows exactly what he’s thinking. Was Ruby here after all, just like Codsworth had said? Did she dig through the house to retrieve her things, cutting herself in the process? Why would she come back after all these years for them?

In the end, there’s little in Ruby’s room to salvage. Preston takes the pieces of her austere black comforter and walks off with them the same as he did with Judith’s, but she’s beyond caring at this point.

“Hey, Bluebird,” Hancock says. “Think you might want to see this.”

She turns and looks at him with a weary sigh, then gasps.

He’s holding out a picture frame. The glass is cracked on the surface, but the picture on the inside is whole, if a little dingy. She takes it, and he comes to stand behind her shoulder as she looks at it.

“That your family?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “That’s my daddy, and my ma, and that’s Ruby next to her.”

“So you’re the cute little kid on his lap?”

She giggles softly. “If you can call that frizzy mess cute. Look at my hair! God, Ruby looked so serious, even as a kid. She can’t be more than twelve here. And Ma...”

“She’s beautiful,” Hancock says softly.

“She was. She really was.”

A photograph can’t capture her, never could—the sepia tone doesn’t catch the warm golden brown of her eyes or the way her dark hair glowed in the sun. Her smile on the paper is a poor substitute for the real thing, and nothing will bring back her rich, throaty laughter.

Even so, Judith never thought she’d see her again. She’d thought every reminder of her left in the world was gone.

Nick comes to look with a smile, and when Preston returns she shows him, too. She carries it carefully back to the house and sets it up on the dresser. Hancock lugs her books behind her, and they set them up on the other side. Dorothy’s dress goes back in the bottom drawer.

“It’s starting to feel like a real home,” she says softly.

Preston peeks his head in the door. “Dorothy, why don’t you rest for a while? I know this took a lot out of you.”

She nods gratefully. Hancock slips out of the room around Preston, keeping his head down almost guiltily, and leaves the house.

“What’s his problem today?” she mumbles.

Preston sighs. “It’s probably my fault. He seems uncomfortable around me, and I know I wasn’t exactly welcoming yesterday.”

“No, you really weren’t,” she says bluntly. He winces.

“You were right. I was being unfair. I just...don't want anything to happen to you. But if he’s taking care of you...”

“He is,” she says, plopping down on the bed. “I sort of got...sidetracked on the way to Diamond City? By a few groups of raiders, and then some super mutants? So I ran across what felt like half of Boston trying to get away, finally burst through the door of Goodneighbor expecting to find _more_ raiders, and instead, I run into this thief that corners me and threatens me for everything I have...”

Preston’s eyes grow wider and wider as she speaks, and he stumbles over to sit down on his bed like he’s going to fall if he doesn’t.

“But then,” she continues quickly. “Hancock just stepped out of the shadows, and he saved me from the thief.” She carefully leaves out the part where Hancock had stabbed Finn, deciding that might not improve Preston’s opinion of him. “Then he gave me a safe place to sleep and fed me, and then the next morning he offered to escort me to Diamond City, and when he realized just how bad I was at protecting myself he offered to stay with me even after that. He dropped _everything_ just to keep me safe. I don’t know why he’s doing it, but...I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t.”

Preston takes a deep, shaking breath. “Not that I enjoy hearing how close I came to losing you,” he says. “But...”

“Just promise me you’ll try to get along with him,” she says. “You don’t have to be friends, but he deserves better than this.”

He nods. “I’ll try. Now get some rest.”

He gives her a hug and a soft kiss on the top of her head before leaving, and she finally lies down again, curling up for a nap.

The sound of her friends laughing and chatting easily in the street outside lulls her to sleep.

—

She wakes a while later to a knock at the door.

“Dorothy? Mama Murphy is cooking dinner.”

Judith groans and rolls over, stretching. “Thanks, Preston,” she calls back, then sits up. She hums in thought and looks at the dresser.

There’s no reason she has to wear these rags around Sanctuary with all her friends here to keep her safe, is there? It couldn’t hurt to put on something pretty. It would be nicer if she could bathe first, but she can’t be too picky.

She picks through the drawers, smiling when she finds one of her favorite summer dresses. She holds it up to her arm.

She looks good in just about any color, and Ruby always liked her best in yellows and reds, but Judith herself has always been fond of pastels. This one is especially pretty contrasted with her warm brown skin—a soft knee-length pastel purple dress with a simple collar, cap sleeves, and a white ribbon to tie around the waist. She doesn’t have any good shoes to go with it, but she’ll take what she can get.

She makes sure the front door is closed before changing clothes in the hallway where nobody can see in through the walls. Once she’s changed she spins around a few times, relishing the feel of the skirt twirling around her and of the air on her skin.

With no mirror it’s hard to tell exactly how her hair looks, but she runs her fingers through the tight curls carefully anyway and smooths it out as well as she can. She feels more like herself than she has since...well, before the vault, probably.

When she leaves the house, the sun and breeze feel amazing on her arms and legs. She’s a little cold, but it’s a small price to pay for how nice this feels.

She approaches the cooking fire, smiling to see them all sitting around laughing over bowls of what seems to be yao guai stew. Suddenly there’s a crash, and the sound of ceramic shattering. She jumps and looks around, finding Hancock staring at her, broken bowl of still-steaming stew at his feet.

He blinks a few seconds later and looks down. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Mama Murphy just laughs and shakes her head, picking up another bowl from the pile next to her and filling it to pass down to him.

“You look beautiful,” Preston says, grinning up at her.

“Not very practical, though,” she teases. “Won’t stop a bullet.”

He rolls his eyes, still smiling, and returns to eating his food.

“You do look very nice,” Nick says.

Hancock just mumbles something unintelligible and shoves more food in his mouth. Her chest tightens a little in disappointment, but she shoves it down and accepts her bowl.

When she finishes, she looks down the road thoughtfully.

“Hey, Dogmeat,” she says. The dog perks his ears up and wags his tail. “Wanna come with me for a minute, boy?”

Hancock looks up and frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Just down the road a little. There’s a hubflower bush near Concord.”

“What do you need hubflowers for?”

She shrugs and looks away. “I just like putting them in my hair. I thought it’d be pretty with the dress.”

“And you’re only taking Dogmeat to protect you?”

“He did just fine before I met you.”

“Here, let me come with.”

“You don’t have to, I know it’s a silly—”

“Dorothy,” Preston cuts in. “Just let him walk you there, please?”

She sighs. “Okay, sure.”

She leads, Hancock following with his gun out. He’s being silly, she thinks, considering she’s going just down the street, but she appreciates it all the same.

They’re quiet as they walk. When they arrive, he watches her search the bush for a minute. Finally, he reaches out and picks one in full bloom, leaving a long stem. He tucks it behind her ear gently and smooths her hair back over it. His rough fingers just barely brush her cheek as he pulls his hand back. For a second, she can’t breathe. Then Dogmeat barks beside her, and she looks down. He prances a little on his front paws. She smiles, then snaps off another hubflower and tucks it under his collar.

“There you go,” she says. “Now you’re pretty, too.”

“What about me?” Hancock says with a grin.

She looks at him, tilting her head thoughtfully. She picks another flower.

“Hey, I was kidding,” he says. “I don’t exactly have anywhere to put it. I—”

She threads it through his top buttonhole, tucking it safely in place. He looks down at it with wide eyes.

He clears his throat. “Well, don’t we all look fancy.”

She opens her mouth to speak, then a drop of rain hits her cheek. She looks up at the sky as another hits her, then another. She hadn’t even noticed clouds moving in. Suddenly she stiffens and gasps.

“Bluebird?”

“Nick,” she says, and races down the street and across the bridge. She sees Nick standing in the middle of the road talking to Preston as the rain begins to come down harder and faster.

“What are you doing?” she shouts. He yelps in surprise when she grabs his arm and drags him towards the nearest house, yanking him inside under the roof.

Hancock jogs up after her and walks in the house behind them, staring at Judith like she’s crazy.

“What the fuck was that?”

She’s too busy peering into Nick’s cheek cavity and looking over his bare hand to answer.

Then Nick starts laughing. Hancock frowns at him too, looking even more confused.

“Oh, kid, you thought—hey, calm down. I’m not going to short out.”

“What? But—”

He chuckles. “I could go swimming if I wanted to. Not that I _would_ want to, but you get my point. Synths wouldn’t survive out in the world for very long if all it took to kill us was a pail of water, you know.”

“Oh,” she says quietly.

He shakes his head, still smiling. “Appreciate the concern, though.”

Hancock is staring back and forth between them, until Nick leans in and whispers something in his ear. A smile begins to spread on his face as he listens.

“I can’t believe you thought a little rain could kill old Nick,” he laughs. “That’s adorable.”

She crosses her arms over her chest in embarrassment. “I was _worried._ If you opened up a Mister Handy and got water in its insides, it would short out. How was I supposed to know?”

“Sure, sure. Still cute.”

She huffs and storms out of the house, running right into Preston, who’s biting his lip like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Let me guess,” she says. “You heard everything.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to eavesdrop, but...”

“ _Ugh,”_ she groans, stomping off down the street towards their house where she flops back on her bed. She knows she’s pouting, but she’s too embarrassed to care.

After a few minutes, she hears footsteps entering the house.

“Hey, Bluebird.”

“What do you want?”

Hancock chuckles again. “Look, we didn’t mean to make fun of you, okay? It was just cute. You scared the shit out of me at first, running off like there was a fire.”

She looks over at him and sighs. “I’m sorry.”

He sits on the edge of her bed and smiles down at her. “Knew he’d grow on you.”

“I keep forgetting he’s a r—a synth,” she says. “He just seems like any other person, aside from the...you know, the holes.”

“That’s because he is,” Hancock says quietly but firmly. “Even those old bots like Codsworth develop personalities after they’ve been around a long time, but synths? Well, newer synths? They’re not just _programmed._ They get whole personalities and memories and everything uploaded to their brains. Hell, lots of ‘em don’t even know they’re synths. Most look just like anyone else. Nick’s kind of a special case.”

She frowns. “So anyone could be a synth?”

“Never seen a ghoul synth before, but other than that,” he says. “Institute also has a bad habit of kidnapping people and replacing them with synth spies. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. Plenty of synths escape the Institute and get their memories wiped so they can live normal lives.”

She sits up, frowning. “You haven’t told me about them before.”

“Yeah, well. Kind of trying to ease you into the worst of the shit out here. Baby steps.”

“Who are they? The Institute, I mean.”

“They’re...well, everyone calls ‘em the bogeyman of the Commonwealth. No one knows much about why they do what they do. Everyone’s just scared of ‘em. You never know who they’re gonna grab next.”

She shudders. “That’s awful.”

“Tell me about it. But hey, let’s talk about something a little nicer. Finding that old dress seemed to make you pretty happy.”

“Yeah, it did,” she says with a small smile. “But it’s not like I can wear it, really. Not anywhere but here, anyway.”

“What if you could?”

“What do you mean?”

“I already told you my getup is reinforced with ballistic weave. Guy back in Goodneighbor did it for me. If we took your dress to him, I bet he could do it for you, too.”

She gapes at him for a moment. “And it wouldn’t hurt the dress? It wouldn’t make it look different?”

He stands up and holds up his coat, letting her inspect the lining. It’s thin, almost unnoticeable, and flexible but firm.

“Trust me,” he says. “These duds are almost five hundred years old, and he took good care of ‘em.”

“Okay,” she says excitedly. “Yeah, okay, let’s do it.”

He grins. “Lemme go talk to Nick.”

“Now?”

He shrugs. “You look so happy not having to wear those filthy old rags. If getting that other dress fixed up will make you even happier _and_ keep you safe, we’re gonna get it done.”

She beams at him gratefully. He ducks his head and smiles at the floor before clearing his throat. “Be right back.”

While he’s gone, she pulls Dorothy’s dress back out and admires it, running her hands over the fabric. She’s so excited she almost doesn’t notice Hancock come in again.

“So Nick says he’ll stay here for now to talk with Codsworth and Mama Murphy some more,” he says. “It’d be just you, me and Dogmeat. Shouldn’t run into too much trouble between here and Goodneighbor with that yao guai gone, but if you’d rather wait...”

“No, I trust you,” she says quickly. He just watches her face for a moment, then nods.

“Okay then. We’ll leave in the morning. You ready for another adventure?”

“With you?” she says, smiling. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at the amazing art [baskinglizard](http://baskinglizard.tumblr.com) commissioned from [vectober](http://vectober.tumblr.com) for judith [here](http://dovahkn.co.vu/post/140648842209)!! I'm so happy she looks so beautiful THAT'S MY BABY!
> 
> anyway AHEM. come see me on tumblr [here](http://dovahkn.co.vu)!!


	10. Behind the Curtain

“You know I don’t like this,” Preston sighs as the rest of the group disperses, having already said their goodbyes. “You just got here.”

“It’ll be fine,” Judith says, squeezing his arm. “I’ll be back before you know it, and better armored.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Hancock says, tone more serious than she’s ever heard it.

Preston meets his eyes, just staring for a moment, before nodding. “I know you will.”

Hancock looks briefly startled, but recovers quickly and looks back down to where he’s checking his gear one last time. Dogmeat bounces on his feet next to Judith’s legs, obviously ready to get going.

“Maybe I’ll bring you back a souvenir from Goodneighbor,” she teases.

Hancock huffs a short laugh. “Yeah, like what, a used jet inhaler?”

To her surprise, Preston laughs too, though maybe a little uncomfortably. She appreciates the effort, at least.

“Anyway, we ought to get going,” she says. On an impulse, she raises up on her toes and kisses Preston on the cheek. He grins and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead in return.

When she turns to Hancock, he’s staring off over the bridge.

“Everything okay?” she says softly.

“Peachy,” he says. “You ready?”

She nods, taking his elbow. He blinks down at her in surprise, then glances back at Preston. When she looks, Preston is frowning a little, but smiles again as he meets her eyes. She waves as they walk away, Dogmeat trotting at her heels.

Hancock relaxes a little more once they pass over the hill and Sanctuary is out of sight. He lets her hold his arm and lean on him for a long time, until they reach the railroad tracks and have to walk back up the hill.

“So,” she says a little while later, walking along the rail, arms out for balance. “You have a brother? You never mentioned him before.”

“Had,” he says sharply. “We had a...disagreement. Haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He was a dick.”

She chews her lip thoughtfully, trying to decide whether to press for more or leave it alone.

“Sounds like you and Ruby were close, though,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says, letting the subject of his brother drop. “It was hard for her, I mean. She was nine when I was born, and I guess she wasn’t very happy about me at first. Then after Ma died, she was twenty-five and I was sixteen, and she had to take over custody of me. So she’d not only lost her mother, she suddenly had a teenager to raise. And I know I didn’t make it easy on her. I was so angry about losing Ma, and I took it all out on her.”

“Shit,” he says softly.

“But when we were kids, after she got over not being the only child anymore, she loved to help take care of me. She liked to get me all dressed up and show me off to her friends like I was some doll. I didn’t mind, of course. I loved the attention.”

“Sounds a lot nicer than my brother. Guy was the standard big brother—entitled, punchy, liked to shove rotten tatoes down my shirt and slap my back.”

“Well, I’m not saying we didn’t play pranks on each other or that we never fought, but...we mostly got along, yeah. I looked up to her a lot. I was always more like Ma, with my singing and music, but Ruby was just like Daddy. She was so smart. She used to come home and talk to me about her work and it would all go right over my head, you know?”

“Hey, you’re smart,” he protests.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Most of what people thought I was so smart for was just memorization. I can recite a hundred different poems for you, but I can’t write one. I never could.”

“You seem pretty damn smart to me, Bluebird. Hey, give me a poem.”

“What?”

“You said you know a lot of poems. Tell me one.”

“Give me a minute,” she says, thinking, flipping through the poems stored in her brain to come up with the right one.

They crest the last hill, and they stand looking out over the ruins of Boston. She pauses, and he stops, turning to look at her.

“ _I met a traveller from an antique land,”_ she starts,  
“ _Who said: ‘Two vast and trunkless legs of stone_  
_Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,_  
_Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,_  
_And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,_  
_Tell that its sculptor well those passions read_  
_Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,_  
_The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:_  
_And on the pedestal these words appear:_  
_'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:_  
_Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'_  
_Nothing beside remains. Round the decay_  
_Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare  
__The lone and level sands stretch far away.’”_

Hancock turns to look out over the city again. They’re both silent for a long time.

“And you think you’re not smart,” he finally says. He sighs and shakes his head, and they press on.

They run into a few dogs along the way, but little else, and reach Goodneighbor by early afternoon. Judith stops in to give Daisy a hug before following Hancock back to the Old Howard Theatre—now the Memory Den.

Inside, her first impression is _red._ Red carpet, red curtains, red wallpaper, and a woman in a red dress lying on a red chaise in the center of the stage. There are strange machines placed around the room at angles, odd bubble-shaped things with cushioned seats inside—also red, of course.

“The Memory Den’s not accepting new clients right now—oh, Hancock, it’s you,” the woman says. “What brings you in here?”

“Just coming in to see Kent. Got a project for him.”

“Oh, good,” she sighs. “He needs something to keep him busy and get his mind off this crazy new plan of his. Go on in.”

Hancock leads Judith through a side door, to a room with one more bubble-chair-thing inside, the walls papered with posters of—

“The Silver Shroud,” Judith says in surprise.

“That’s right!” a ghoul sitting at the other end of the room says excitedly. “You must be here because of the broadcast.”

“Hey, Kent,” Hancock says. “I actually have a favor to ask you.”

“Broadcast?” Judith says.

Kent’s face falls, and something about it makes Judith’s heart ache for him. “Oh, n-nothing,” he says. “Just...something I’ve been working on. What’s the project?”

“Got something else I need you to fix up with some ballistic weave for my friend Dorothy here. I’ll pay you the same rate as last time.”

“Sure,” Kent says, still sounding defeated.

Judith can’t help herself. She steps forward. “What broadcast?”

He brightens a little, looking up at her. “You ever listen to the Silver Shroud?”

“Of course I have,” she says automatically. “I even auditioned for a part on the TV show. Never did hear back from them...”

Kent blinks in confusion, and Hancock chuckles.

“Don’t have much of a filter, do you?” he says. “How were you even an actress?”

“Hey, shut up,” she grumbles. “I do fine when I’m in character.”

“How is that possible?” Kent says. “That was hundreds of years ago.”

“I was, um...an actress before the war. I was frozen in a vault right when the bombs hit. I’ve only been awake for a couple weeks.”

He grins in excitement. “Oh man, that's amazing! You're just like Mister Abominable from Episode 83.”

“Kent,” Hancock cuts in. “What’s this plan?”

Kent looks at him for a second, then turns back to Judith. “You’ve seen how bad it gets around here, right? Thefts, m-murders, worse. I got a question for you. What if the Silver Shroud was real, with his black trench coat and gleaming silver submachine gun? I got a plan to bring him to life so he can fight bad guys and give the rest of us a symbol of something better. I've built my own custom machine gun, even better than the one in the show. But to make this work, I still need the most important piece. The genuine Silver Shroud costume herself.”

“Over at Hubris,” she says.

He nods fervently. “Exactly! You’re perfect for this.”

Judith looks up at Hancock, who’s watching her with an amused smile.

“Hancock?”

“Bluebird,” he says evenly.

“I’m sure it’s going to take Kent some time to work on my dress,” she says.

“Oh, yeah, at least a couple days,” Kent says.

“Your point?” Hancock says, grinning wider, and now she knows he’s messing with her.

“ _So_ we’d have plenty of time to go grab the costume and come back while Kent is working on it. Don’t you think?”

“If you get the costume you don’t even have to p-pay for the job. That’d be enough for me.”

Hancock sighs dramatically. “Well...I _guess_ we can make a little detour.”

“Oh, thanks, guys,” Kent says. “You’re the best. I’ll get to work right away.”

Hancock hands over Dorothy’s dress, and Kent’s eyes widen. “Isn’t this...?”

“Come on,” Judith says, grabbing Hancock’s hand and pulling him behind her. “See you soon with the costume, Kent.”

She drags him all the way out of the Memory Den, and when she looks over her shoulder he’s staring down at where their hands are connected.

“Um, so,” she says, finally letting go. “Are you ready to go?”

“Let me stock up on some more ammo first,” he says. “I’ll grab some grenades for you, too. You can hang out with Daisy for a while if you want.”

He goes to talk to the robot in the other store, but when Judith peeks around the wall of Daisy’s shop, there are already three people inside waiting their turn, and one of them is arguing with her about something. Judith sighs and wanders back to the other side of town instead. Dogmeat’s ears suddenly perk up as he walks next to her, and he trots purposefully towards the hotel.

She frowns, but follows. He leads her inside and past Clair, who gives her a curious look but says nothing, and up the stairs to the top floor. The first door on the left opens, and a ghoul in a yellow trenchcoat steps out.

Judith narrows her eyes in thought. There’s something familiar about that coat...

“Oh, no, not you too,” the ghoul groans. “Wait—wait a minute, you’re not a ghoul! _How?”_

“What? You...oh my god, you’re that guy from Vault-Tec,” she says. “You survived!”

“Survived? You call this surviving? Look at me. I’m a ghoul. A _freak._ But you...look at you. Two hundred years and you’re still perfect. How? How’s that possible?”

“You didn’t know?” she says. “You’re the one that convinced us to sign up for the vault! They—they froze us in these pods, I just woke up a couple weeks ago.”

“What? Vault-Tec never told me that! Unbelievable.”

“Wait, wait. You said _‘not you too’_. Who else have you seen?”

“Your sister, of course. She’s not here with you, is she?”

Judith’s heart leaps. “You’ve seen Ruby? She’s been here?”

“Oh, she’s been here all right. Asking me about that _vault_ , if I knew how to open it up and get inside. As if I wouldn’t already be in there if I knew.”

“How long ago? What does she look like now? Is she a ghoul too? Do you know where she went? Please, I’ve got to find her.”

He huffs. “Of course she’s a ghoul. She was here...maybe a year ago. I don’t know where she went. Maybe back to Sanctuary. I didn’t ask. I didn’t _care.”_

She bites her lip in frustration. “I...okay. Thanks for your help, I guess.”

He’s still glaring at her, like everything that went wrong for him was her fault.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He sighs, closing his eyes. “I’ve just...been so alone here. No Commonwealth settlement wants a ghoul with two hundred years of Vault-Tec sales experience. And Goodneighbor is...well, Goodneighbor.”

“Well...” she says hesitantly. It only takes her a second to decide, and Mama Murphy’s voice in her head saying _you’re going to be the guiding star_ gives her the last push she needs. “We’re rebuilding in Sanctuary,” she says. “Some friends of mine are there now. There’s not many of us so far, but there’s defenses, food, shelter...they might need to get an extra bed for you, but there’s plenty of room still in the houses. You’d be welcome there, if you want.”

“Really? They won’t mind that I’m a ghoul?”

She frowns. “Of course they won’t. And anyone that _would_ mind wouldn’t be welcome there. As long as you’re willing to help out, you’ll have a home there. I’ll be going back in a few days myself.”

His eyes widen, and he finally begins to smile. “Yeah? Yeah, okay. I’ll head over there right now. I’ll see you there!”

“You’ll be okay getting there on your own? I’m not much good with a gun yet, but my friend and I...”

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ve made it out here on my own for two hundred years, haven’t I?”

She smiles. “Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll see you there, then. Make sure to tell them Dorothy sent you.”

He frowns a little. “Dorothy? I could have sworn your name was...oh well. Two hundred years, you forget a name or two, I guess.”

Her face tenses a little, but she manages to keep smiling. “I guess.”

He leaves with one last wave and smile, and she finally breathes again. She looks down at Dogmeat, who’s wagging his tail at her with his tongue lolling out. She scratches behind his ear.

“Yes, you did a good job,” she says. “I don’t know _how,_ but you did. Let’s go find Hancock again.”

She finds him standing in front of the State House, looking around with a frown. He relaxes when he catches sight of her as she steps into the street.

“Bluebird? What were you doing in there?”

She shrugs, feeling a little strange about what feels like stealing one of his citizens right out from under his...well.

“Dogmeat just wanted to show me something. Are you ready?”

He grins, tucking into her bag what seems to be about a dozen grenades and some extra ammo for her gun.

“Know we’re trying to keep you from having to use it, but just in case.”

“Thank you,” she says, embarrassed to think how much he must have spent on this.

“’Course,” he says, waving off the thanks. “Now let’s go get your new best friend’s little costume.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t want to help him too.”

He laughs. “Yeah, maybe. Kent’s a good guy. Needs to get out a bit more, maybe, but a good guy.”

She has a vague idea of where Hubris Comics is from here, though she’s really wishing that she’d paid more attention to the layout of the city back before the war, instead of just daydreaming and looking at the sky while Ruby drove her everywhere.

Still, they make it there fairly quickly with Hancock leading. He stops before opening the door.

“Don’t know what we’ll find in there, so keep your weapon out, but stay behind me,” he says. “Don’t use a grenade unless you have to. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Hancock opens the door as quietly as he can, and they step inside, staying low. At first, the place seems silent, motionless. She almost dares to hope it’s empty, even though Dogmeat’s ears are flat against his skull at her side.

Then Hancock takes a few steps forward, and there’s a soft whirring. Judith’s eyes snap towards the source of the noise, and she finds a little monkey doll raising its arms, its eyes glowing yellow.

“Oh, shit,” Hancock mutters.

There’s a clanging as the monkey begins to bang its cymbals together, and suddenly the lights go on and music begins to play.

Low groaning fills the air over the sound of the music, and then she hears legs moving.

“Ferals,” Hancock whispers.

“Grenade?” she says as the ferals pour through the doors on the other side of the room.

“Now!”

She palms one out of her bag, pulls the pin, and tosses it over the shelves in a smooth motion, covering her ears against the sound of the explosion. It doesn’t take them all out, but it thins the crowd. Hancock draws them towards himself, yelling insults and taunts, Dogmeat bounding off with him and taking out their legs, while Judith stays pressed in the corner next to the door.

Then she looks up.

“The ceiling!” she yells. “They’re coming through—”

One drops through the hole nearest to her, falling to the ground with a sickening splat. It begins to get to its feet again, and it’s not looking at Hancock—it’s looking at her. With trembling hands she raises her gun, aims, and fires as fast as she can get the shots off. She hits it in the stomach, the chest, the arm—and it keeps coming. There’s another wet thud to her left, and she realizes she only has seconds before there’ll be another one on her.

She raises her gun a little, takes an extra second to center it, and fires. The shot hits the feral’s head and knocks it backwards. She doesn’t watch long enough to find out if it’s dead. She spins—the other feral is much closer than she’d expected it to be, but she forces herself to take that extra second one more time before taking the shot.

She hits the head on the first try this time, and has to force back a whoop of joy. It stays down, and when she glances to the other side, the first one isn’t moving either.

The shotgun blasts one last time on the other side of the room, and then Hancock is jogging back over. He stumbles in surprise when he sees the two ferals dead on the floor.

“Oh, shit, did they hurt you?” he says, racing to her side and looking her over.

“No, I got them,” she says, grinning. “Hancock, I got them!”

A slow smile spreads over his face, and he turns to look at the corpses more carefully. “With headshots, too? Very nice, Bluebird.”

“I took that one out with only one shot!”

When he looks back at her he’s smiling proudly, eyes soft, and she feels like her heart could burst.

“You know what? You deserve a reward for your first one-hit kill. And unless I’m wrong, your first feral kill.”

“A reward?” she says, blinking in confusion.

He walks over towards the computer terminal, then grabs something from one of the broken display cases. He turns back to her and hands her a cute little brown teddy bear.

She bursts out laughing in surprise before taking it.

“It’s like winning a stuffed animal at the shooting gallery at the fair,” she says. “Except with a higher chance of death.”

He chuckles. “Well, you earned it.” His smile fades. “But I’m sorry you had to. I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

She shakes her head. “You can’t protect me from _everything,_ Scarecrow.”

“I’m sure as fuck gonna try, though.”

She giggles. “Yeah, I guess Preston would probably kill you if something happened to me, huh?”

“I’d let him,” he says bluntly, turning around to start searching the bodies for anything good to take. She stands there for a minute, just staring and processing what he said, until Dogmeat starts jumping up on her.

“What is it, boy?” she says. “Are there more?”

Hancock looks over his shoulder and snorts. “He wants the bear.”

“No, Dogmeat, this is _my_ bear. Get your own.”

Dogmeat sits down and tilts his head, whining softly.

“Don’t give me that. We’ll find you another bear if you want one. This one is special.”

“Special, huh? That means it needs a name.”

She hums thoughtfully. “His name is Marvel.”

“If you say so. Marvel it is.”

She tucks the bear safely away in her bag under the grenades and ammunition, then follows Hancock upstairs. There are a few more ferals crawling around the upper floors, but spread out enough Hancock can take them out easily alone. Finally, they reach the very top level. She sees the Shroud’s costume and sighs in relief. Just as she begins to stand up straight, Hancock grabs her shoulder and keeps her low.

“Hold up, I hear something.”

She pauses to listen. There’s some more shuffling and groaning, but she spots the ghouls moving through a window in the wall to the right and points silently. He nods, creeps forward, and ducks through the doorway to take them out.

“Seems like the coast is clear,” he says, standing up. She straightens up too, rolling her shoulders—all this walking around crouched down so low is killing her back.

Hancock picks over the bodies as Judith heads for the costume. She’s a couple feet away when she notices the wall behind the screen is...glowing green.

“Hancock?” she says.

The green light begins to move, and with it she hears more shuffling, more wet gurgling noises—then it comes around the corner, and she screams.

She’s lifting her gun, but Hancock is there in an instant and shoves her back.

“Run!” he says. “Get out of the room!”

“But—”

“Now!” he yells.

She nearly trips over herself as she backs up and runs for the stairs. Dogmeat bounds over to Hancock’s side.

“Dogmeat, get away!” he snaps.

“Come on, boy!” Judith calls, and Dogmeat whines but follows her. Hancock hasn’t been this harsh with her since she stepped in front of the gun at Vault 114, and she’s terrified for him. Why does this thing scare him so much?

She huddles at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the shotgun blasts and watching the green glow move through the stairwell. There’s one final shot, and the sound of a body hitting the ground, then silence.

“Hancock?” she calls out after a couple seconds, voice shaking.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Stay there. I’ll get the costume.”

She frowns down at Dogmeat, who’s calm and relaxed again at her side, at least.

Hancock comes back down the stairs a minute later, holding the Shroud’s costume and hat along with a few other things.

“What was that thing?” she says, taking the costume from him and folding it up carefully.

“A Glowing One,” he says. “Ferals that have absorbed so much damn radiation they actually glow. And I didn’t want you two anywhere near it because the fuckers are actually radioactive themselves.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “You scared me. I thought you were going to get hurt.”

He grins at her. “Me? Never. Now let’s get out of here.”

They make their way back out of the store and down the street, and she sighs in relief once they’re out.

“That wasn’t so bad,” she says, looking up at the bright blue late-afternoon sky.

“You handled yourself pretty well, Bluebird,” he says.

She smiles to herself, reaching one hand into her bag to hold Marvel’s paw as they walk back to Goodneighbor.

—

When they walk back into the Memory Den, Irma takes one look at the costume in Judith’s hands and covers her face with her hand.

“Oh, Hancock, no,” she says. “You’re encouraging him?”

“Come on, let the guy have his fun,” he says.

“He’s going to get himself hurt,” she grumbles. “But I can’t exactly stop you. Just tell him to be careful, please?”

“It’ll be fine,” Hancock says, then leads Judith back into Kent’s room.

His head whips up. “You’re b-back? Already? Wow, that was fast!”

Judith smiles. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting.” She hands the costume over, and he takes it with an almost holy reverence.

“There she is,” he says, “pretty as the posters. The Silver Shroud costume herself. After all these years, the Silver Shroud is born again.” He looks up at her a little guiltily. “There’s just one problem. I’m just not Silver Shroud material. I could be Rhett Reinhart, or—or his butler Jarvey Blake. But the Shroud is strong, capable.”

“You made a _custom machine gun_ for this,” Judith says. “That sounds pretty capable.”

He ducks his head bashfully, smiling, but shakes his head. “Thanks, but that’s not the kind of capable I mean. No, I’m just not a fighter. But I got a better idea who should wear it.” He looks back up at her, eyes bright and hopeful. “You up for being the Silver Shroud?”

“What? Me? I...oh, Kent, I’m...I’m flattered, but I can’t...”

His face falls a little. “B-but you’re perfect,” he says. “You already know the character, and you said yourself you were an actress! And you're from the olden days, just like me. You know how much things have fallen, how much we got to fight for to make the place b-better. And...and you helped me out when everyone else just laughed at me.”

“But I’m not exactly a fighter either,” she says softly. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

He nods glumly, looking down at the costume in his hands.

Judith bites her lip, heart breaking for him. She looks back at Hancock, who’s smiling a little.

“Go on,” he says.

“What?”

“Come on, you know I’ve got your back. You do the talking, I’ll do the shooting.”

“Really?” Judith and Kent say at the same time.

“Oh, thank you,” Kent says, smiling again and bouncing a little in his seat. “Here! Put the costume on, and here’s the gun—so you patrol Goodneighbor's streets and I'll call in any crimes on my radio station. Here's some...calling cards, I guess. When you dispatch justice leave them behind. That way everyone knows the Silver Shroud has returned. Time to fight crime!”

Judith giggles and nods, gathering the costume back up in her arms and taking the hat and gun. They leave the Den, and Judith ducks into the hotel, changing her clothes in the empty room. She wishes there was a mirror in the room, because she’d love to see how she looks.

When she steps back out onto the street Hancock whistles.

“Well, don’t you look like you just walked out of a comic book.”

“So does this make you my sidekick?” she says, clicking around on her Pip-Boy to try to find the radio setting.

“Hey, I’m no one’s sidekick. That’s what Dogmeat here is for. We’re more like...partners.”

Her cheeks heat a little, but she just grins. “Partners, then. The Silver Shroud and the...Mayor of Mystery?”

He laughs. “I like it, but I think I’ll stick with just Hancock.”

She finally finds the right screen, and the radio crackles to life.

“ _Calling all Silver Shroud fans! A once-in-a-lifetime announcement! The Silver Shroud returns, and she's gonna clean up the streets! Everyone heard how Wayne DeLancey m-murdered Miss Selmy and her kid over a few lousy caps. Death is coming for you, Wayne.”_

It crackles again, and she clicks it off as the familiar bumper for Galaxy News Radio plays.

She stares down at her Pip-Boy in shock. “This guy killed a mother and her child? Over... _money?”_

“You okay, Bluebird? We don’t have to do this.”

She straightens her back, sets her shoulders, and settles the machine gun into her arms as if she knows how to use it.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “We do.”

“He usually skulks around back this way,” Hancock says, pointing towards an alley by the Hotel, but before he can move she takes the lead, steps long and sure, slipping more into character with each one.

At the other end of the alley, there’s a man crouched down over a body. Judith is trembling slightly, but all she feels is anger.

“Wayne DeLancey,” she calls in a low, clear voice, authoritative and powerful, nothing like her own. “You have murdered a woman and child in cold blood. What do you have to say in your defense?”

The man jumps at the sound and stands up, frowning at her.

“Selmy? Yeah, I killed the bitch. And her whelp, too. Shouldn't have bothered. They barely had two caps between them. What’s it to you?”

She sneers. “A quick end is too kind for a vile creature like you, but it will have to do. Consider yourself lucky. Death has come for you, evil doer, and I am its shroud.”

“What the hell's wrong with you? Well, nothing a few bullets won't cure,” Wayne says. He spits on the ground and raises his gun. She has her finger on the trigger of the submachine gun before she remembers herself, and then Hancock has stepped forward and Wayne is on the ground with two blasts from his shotgun. She stares down at the body.

“Bluebird, don’t...”

She pulls a calling card from her bag, steps forward, and tosses it down on the corpse’s chest. She turns on her heel and storms back out of the alley.

The Watch standing around look up with interest, eyeing her gun and costume.

“The Silver Shroud?” one chuckles. “Ain’t that a kid’s show?”

She fixes him with a cold stare. “You allow a child-murderer to roam your streets unhindered and mock justice to its face,” she says. “You are unfit to be called a defender of this town.”

“Hey, watch it,” the man growls, eyes narrowing, until Hancock steps out from behind her with a dangerously friendly smile.

“The Shroud here has a point, don’t you think?” he says. “Just what _was_ Wayne doing still walking and talking? I thought I hired you guys for a reason.”

The man’s eyes widen, and he babbles something incoherent.

“But I’m sure you won’t let it happen again, will you?”

“No, no, ‘course not.”

With that, Judith sets off for the Memory Den, Hancock and Dogmeat both trailing at her heels. She goes straight to Kent’s room.

He looks up from where he’s working on her dress. “S-so? Is Wayne...?  


“Justice has been served,” she says. “The villain is dead, and will never again harm an innocent.”

“Oh, this is great,” Kent says. “I knew you’d be perfect. Just listen to you! O-okay, I got another one recorded and ready to go, go turn on your radio.”

“Couldn’t you just tell us?” Hancock mumbles, but Judith is already on her way back out.

He chuckles as she fiddles with her Pip-Boy again on the street.

She looks up, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem, Mister Mayor?” she says coolly.

He grins. “Damn, you just don’t stop, do you?”

Before she can answer, the radio crackles on. She frowns down at it as Kent introduces another voice—someone named Jerry.

“So Jerry, go on, tell the listeners about what we're talking about.”

“Right. So AJ—you know, the chem dealer by Bobbi's? He's doing good for himself. Says he's got a whole new market: kids. Even with his garbage chems, he's just raking in the caps.”

“You hear that? Sounds like the Silver Shroud has another bad guy to deal with.”

“Uh, why? This Shroud gal, she's gonna muscle in on the chem trade now?”

“No, she's gonna do something about it. AJ's selling to kids, and his chems have k-killed people!”

“And? I don't get it.”

“We can't let AJ kill kids!”

“Whatever.”

Judith growls under her breath as she clicks the radio off.

“Well, fuck,” Hancock sighs.

“This is the sort of activity you allow to go on unchecked in your town, Mayor?”

“Hey, now, you don’t...ah, crap,” he sighs. “You’re right. This is exactly the kind of shit I didn’t want to stand for. I’ll talk with Fahr again when we’re done here. Think we need to have a little chat with the Watch about what ‘living life on your own terms’ does and _doesn’t_ mean. Let’s go, Shroud.”

With his directions, she leads them to the next alley. There’s three of them, this time, and there’s a faint flicker of fear in the back of her mind, but it’s quickly smothered by the Shroud. She tips her head just right so the hat casts her face into shadow, and steps forward.

“Tell me, AJ. Why sell to children? Have you poisoned so many adults already that none dare to buy your wares now, or have you become so corrupt you simply no longer care who you hurt?”

“Excuse me? Who the fuck are you?”

“I am the Silver Shroud, villain, and today you look upon the instrument of your death.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake, did Kent put you up to this? He keeps moaning about the poor little kids. What the hell, right? Tell you what. I'll pay you...let's say 50 caps just to shut up about it. And maybe get Kent off my back, all right?”

“You insult the Shroud and spit in the face of justice,” she says. “You would be wise to show respect. You have one final chance, miscreant. Stop selling to children.”

“Screw you,” the man says with a sneer. “Waste the freak.”

Hancock leaps out next to her, but there's too many for him to take out at once, and they're too close for her to use a grenade. He aims for AJ, Dogmeat rushing to help him, as the bodyguard next to Judith turns to face her.

The gun in her arms is loaded, even if she’s not completely sure how to use it. _No better way to learn than to try,_ she thinks. She widens her stance and braces herself, aiming the gun towards the man and holding down on the trigger. The vibration of the gun rattles all the way up into her teeth. The shots rip into his chest, and he finally falls with a sickening splat into a puddle of his own blood. Her stomach churns, but she manages to stomp down her disgust for later. The Shroud wouldn’t be disturbed by a little bloodshed, after all.

AJ is already lying dead at Hancock’s feet, but she could have sworn there had been two of the bodyguards.

"Where—" she starts.

The first bullet hits her in the arm. She cries out, raising her other hand protectively over her face, and the second skims her side. Dogmeat barks viciously, races for the open doorway where the second bodyguard is hiding around the corner, and grabs the man by the leg, dragging him out into the open. Hancock takes him out with a shot to the head before racing back to her side.

“Dammit,” he says. “C’mon, get the coat off, let me see.”

She’s in too much shock to feel the pain as she helps him peel the layers away from her shoulder. All she feels is cold where the bullets hit.

“Okay, you’re okay. Just a graze,” he says, sighing in relief. “Pretty deep, but not dangerous.”

“My side,” she says. She tries to move her arm to point, but it’s too stiff _._ He picks through the folds of cloth and finds her stomach wound on his own.

“Another graze,” he says. “Really are lucky, aren’t you?”

“It hurts,” she says. The shots felt like spikes of ice when they hit, numbing everything around them, but they’re suddenly burning. With the pain, the Shroud is gone, and she’s just Judith again, hurt and scared. “I’ve never—Hancock, it hurts,” she whimpers.

He takes her by her good arm and guides her down to sit. Dogmeat lies down with a whimper and presses his head against her leg.

“Just a second, Bluebird, we’ll get you all fixed up,” Hancock says, pulling a handful of red and white syringes out of his bag.

“Oh, no,” she squeaks, scrambling backwards and wincing as the pain in her wounds flares.

Hancock frowns in confusion. “What? They’re just stimpaks.”

“No. No needles. No _way.”_

He stares at her blankly before closing his eyes and running a hand over his face. “You’re...scared of needles.”

“I’m not...I’m not _scared._ I just don’t like them. _Nobody_ likes needles.” She stares warily at the syringe anyway, gasping when he moves closer.

“Dorothy...”

“Please, no,” she whimpers.

“It’s gonna take you a week or more to heal up if you don’t. You’ll be better in minutes if you take a couple of these.”

“A _couple?”_

“Okay, okay. We can just try one for now.”

She stares at him silently, pleadingly, but he just stares back.

“I promise, I’ll be as quick as I can. And I know what I’m doing—you’ll barely feel it.”

She’s going to pass out. She can’t do this. Her breath quickens more with every inch he moves closer.

“Hey, now, you’re gonna hyperventilate. Just breathe. Look at me.”

When she finally looks into his face, he takes a deep, slow breath. She tries to match it, though hers is shaky.

He takes her arm gently and rolls back the sleeve. It’s all she can do not to jerk it back away from him. “Do you want me to count down, or just do it?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Okay, we’ll try the countdown first. Just keep looking at my face, don’t look at the needle. There you go. Now...three, two, one—”

Her entire body tenses, her eyes widening. She whimpers when he feels the sting.

“There we go,” he says. “Just a couple seconds and you’ll be done. Keep breathing. You’re doing fine. And...there. All done.”

He pulls the needle out, and the tugging sensation makes her wince. Then her head is swimming, and she’s not sure if she’s going to pass out or—

“You okay?” He says, reaching out like he’s going to cup her face. She shakes her head and leans to the side, facing away from him, and throws up onto the pavement.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles. He rubs her back gently as she heaves.

She pants weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She spits a few times to get the awful taste out of her mouth until he taps her on the shoulder. When she looks back at him, he’s holding out a bottle of purified water.

“Thanks,” she croaks, taking it. She swishes the first few swigs of it through her mouth and spits them out before finally taking a long, slow drink.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says. “Didn’t know it was gonna be that bad.”

She just shakes her head, not feeling up to speaking yet. The pain is nearly all gone, though, and when she looks down, the wound in her shoulder is almost completely healed over. She’s sure if she let him give her another, it’d be gone completely, but she just can’t. Hancock carefully tucks every layer of clothing back into place while she watches him blearily. Dogmeat laps gently at her hand.

“We’re gonna take a break for the night after we see Kent, okay?”

“But—”

“We all need a break. Look at Dogmeat, he’s exhausted. Aren’t you, boy?”

Dogmeat looks up at Judith with wide eyes, wagging his tail and whining.

She sighs. “Okay. Let’s go see Kent.”

There’s only a small twinge in her stomach when she walks, at least. She can’t slip back into character, but she tries to keep her head high for appearances, at least.

When Kent turns around to see them in his doorway, the smile falls off his face immediately. “Oh, no!”

“I’m sorry,” Judith says, glancing down at the holes and bloodstains in the jacket. “Your costume...”

“Forget the costume, are you okay?” Kent says, brow furrowed in worry. She feels Hancock relax a little next to her, and when she looks up he’s smiling.

“She’s fine. But I think we’ve had enough fun for the day. She needs to rest for the night, you dig?”

“Of course,” Kent says. “Hey, if—if you want I can patch the holes up and get the b-blood out.”

“Sure,” Judith says tiredly and begins to shrug out of the costume. “Won’t look too intimidating if it’s all shot up.”

“Uh, Bluebird, you got something on under that getup?”

“What? You know I don’t, you just—oh.”

She looks down, just now realizing she was so out of it she was getting ready to strip right in front of them. Kent is covering his face with both hands and hunched over his lap.

“Hold on a second,” Hancock says. “I don’t want you to have to get back into those dirty rags again. Hey, Irma?”

He walks out, leaving Judith standing there awkwardly with Kent.

“B-but AJ’s dead?” he finally says.

“Really most sincerely dead.”

“That’s great, Shroud. I mean Dorothy. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“I can’t just stand by and let people hurt kids,” she says. “That’s just...evil.”

“Exactly! Goodneighbor needs more people like you.”

“It’s not all that bad, is it?”

“W-well, no, but...the bad parts can be pretty bad. Hancock is a good guy, but he can’t fix _everything_ , and he’s not always here. Running off with you isn’t the first time he’s taken a long vacation. And F-Fahrenheit...she scares me.”

She laughs quietly. “I don’t blame you.”

Hancock returns, holding a soft-looking dress—red, of course.

“Borrowed this from Irma. She says it looks about your size. Try it on. We won’t look.”

She turns around and slips out of the costume and into the dress, being careful with her stomach and arm. It’s simple and comfortable, hanging loosely down to her knees. Most importantly, it’s sleeveless and ties around her neck, so there’s no fabric to rub on her arm wound.

She sighs happily when it’s on. “Okay, you can turn around.”

“Wow,” Kent says, eyes wide. “Y-you look...”

“See you tomorrow, Kent,” Hancock says, taking Judith by the arm and leading her out. He takes her into the Old State House and down the stairs to a room she hasn’t been in before. There’s a desk littered with some little boxes and some different-colored syringes, a ratty armchair, and a double bed with a pillow and an actual blanket over it.

“What’s this?” she says.

“This is my room. Lot more comfortable than that hotel room, and I can stand to sleep on a couch for a night.”

“I can’t take your bed!”

“Hey, you’re the injured one.”

“Barely! They’re almost healed already.”

“Tell you what. I need to take care of some things. Why don’t you lie down while I do that, and we’ll talk about it after?”

“Oh, no. You’re planning on me falling asleep while you’re gone.”

He grins. “Just too smart for me, huh?” His smile falters a little. “Please, Bluebird, just take it.”

She sighs, finally sitting on the bed. She can tell he feels horribly guilty for letting her get hurt, and if this is what will make him feel better...

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “I’m gonna get us some food from the Third Rail and bring it up.”

She lets herself lie back once he leaves, relishing the feel of having a pillow under her head again. Dogmeat lies down next to the bed and starts snuffling eagerly at her bag.

“Dogmeat? What are you—oh, no, you don’t get him.”

She pulls Marvel out of the bag and hugs him to her chest. Dogmeat whines.

A few minutes later she hears footsteps, too delicate to be Hancock’s. Daisy peeks her head in the doorway.

“Daisy?”

“How’s our little crime fighter?” Daisy says, then chuckles. “Hancock said you got banged up a little today.”

“I’m fine,” Judith sighs. “He’s making a big deal out of nothing.”

“That sounds like him, too,” Daisy says. She comes over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I heard what you did though. You’re doing a good thing.”

“You really think so?”

Daisy nods. “Selmy was...well. She wasn’t exactly the kindest person, but she did her best for her son. She tried, which is more than you can say for a lot of people. And that little boy, he was the cutest...” She sighs. “You did a good thing, Dorothy.”

“Thanks,” Judith whispers.

“Now, I have a surprise for you. Got it off a drifter.”

Daisy hands her a book, and Judith gasps.

“Stuart Little,” she reads. “Thank you, Daisy, I’ll take good care of it! I’ll get it back to you as soon as I’m finished with it.”

Daisy chuckles. “Oh, no, it’s for you. You keep it. I don’t have much time for reading nowadays anyway.”

She leans in and gives Judith a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “You take care of yourself. And that ghoul of yours, too.”

Judith shakes her head with a smile. “He’s not _my_ ghoul.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Daisy says. “You have a good night.”

When Hancock comes back in, he has two plates balanced carefully in one hand and two drinks in the other. He brushes the clutter off of his desk to set them down, then pulls a little end table over to the bed for Judith to eat from.

“What you got there?” he says.

“Daisy gave me a new book,” she says excitedly. She sets the book aside to eat, sighing happily when she tastes the Nuka Cherry and vodka again.

“What’s it about?” he asks as they finish eating.

“It’s a kid’s book, but it’s funny. Do you want me to read some to you?”

He chuckles. “Sure, why not.” He moves the armchair over near the head of the bed and sits back.

She scoots back against the pillow, Marvel tucked under her arm, and flips the book open.

“Chapter one,” she says. “In the drain. When Mrs. Frederick C. Little's second son arrived, everybody noticed that he was not much bigger than a mouse. The truth of the matter was, the baby looked very much like a mouse in every way. He was only about two inches high..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I CREATED BEDROOMS BECAUSE WHERE THE FUCK DOES EVERYONE SLEEP THEY CAN’T ALL FIT IN THE ATTIC ON MATTRESSES ON THE FLOOR
> 
> sorry i've fallen behind responding to comments i'm not feeling too well lately but i'll get to them soon!!
> 
> come see me on tumblr [here](http://dovahkn.co.vu), as always, and maybe check out the [moodboard i made for judith](http://dovahkn.co.vu/post/140881838404/moodboard-judith)


	11. I Do Believe in Spooks

Judith wakes to the sound of soft snoring nearby. She lies there with her eyes closed for another few minutes until she realizes that there are actually two distinctly different sets of snores coming from next to her.

When she opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is Dogmeat curled up on the floor next to the bed, which explains the particularly loud snoring.

She sits up a bit and turns her head to find Hancock sprawled out in the armchair, head tilted forward onto his chest, fast asleep. They must have both nodded off while she was reading, she realizes, glancing down to find the book tangled up in the blanket.

Judith reaches out and gently shakes Hancock’s knee until he begins to stir, mumbling something incoherent. He finally blinks, looking around the room in confusion until his eyes settle on her. He smiles, slow and sleepy and warm.

“Mornin’, Bluebird,” he murmurs. He settles a hand over hers where it rests on his leg still and squeezes softly. She doesn’t move her hand for a long time, just watching his face and thinking about nothing at all, until Dogmeat yawns loudly and shakes himself awake.

“Good morning to you too, mutt,” Hancock says. He takes his hand back to stand up and stretch, grumbling about his back.

They eat breakfast in the room again, then head for the Memory Den, where Kent is already up and waiting for them.

“Wow, Kent,” Judith says as he hands the costume back to her. “It’s...like new. This is amazing!”

“If I had more time I could make it even stronger, b-but...”

“Hopefully I won’t get shot again anyway,” she says with a smile.

“Damn straight you won’t,” Hancock mutters.

“I got another job, i-if you’re ready. I understand if you’re not—”

“No, I’m good. I...I can do this.”

She changes again in the hotel. When she steps out onto the street she feels a little exposed—being the Shroud in broad daylight feels quite a bit different than it was in the low evening light. She’s still getting curious looks, and it’s difficult for her to find her way back to the character.

She shakes her head to clear it, turning her radio on. After a few moments of static, Kent’s voice crackles through the Pip-Boy again.

“The Silver Shroud's bringing justice to Goodneighbor! You bad guys better look out. And now, a special update: the villainous assassin Kendra was recently spotted at the Third Rail—the same Kendra who bombed Little Joe's shack and killed four innocent drifters. If you want to see the Silver Shroud in action, stay near Whitechapel Charlie. The Shroud's sure to interrogate him to find the evil-doer's whereabouts.”

When she looks up, a deep frown is etched into Hancock’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” he says, and she knows he’s lying, but the darkness in his expression keeps her from pressing any further. He’ll tell her if she needs to know.

“Well, let’s go,” she says, rolling her shoulders, still trying to settle herself into character.

When they enter the Third Rail, it’s much easier. Despite the early hour, the room is smoky and dim, and Ella Fitzgerald is crooning soft and low on the radio. A pang of nostalgia hits her suddenly, then it’s gone, and the Shroud is back.

She walks steadily, head high, until a grumpy-looking man nearly runs into her as he’s bringing a beer back to his seat. Before she can say anything, he snarls at her.

“What? Another one of you mercs looking for MacCready? He's in the back room,” he says. She frowns in confusion and shakes her head, finally shoving past the man to approach the counter.

“That you, Dorothy?” the bot says. “You look like one of them wankers from the posters. Whatcha wearing that for?"

"You look upon the Silver Shroud,” she says in her calm, deep voice. “I seek a miscreant named Kendra."

“Better forget it,” Charlie says, picking up another glass to clean. “Kendra is not one to be trifled with. People associated with her have a habit of being found face-down in a ditch. You’d better keep your distance, love.”

“Charlie,” she says softly in her own voice. “She’s hurting people. Innocent people.”

“No such thing as an innocent these days,” he says. “You’re the closest thing to it that I’ve seen in centuries. Don’t go ruining it.”

“I won’t be going alone, Charlie. Hancock’s with me. He’ll do the actual fighting.”

“Well...it _would_ be nice to be shot of her, I suppose. You just watch yourself, you hear me? Her flat's just south of Goodneighbor. Water Street Apartments. Look out for the blighters she's got with her. Nasty piece of business, that. Now don’t go getting yourself killed, I don’t want to lose one of the only customers I can stand."

She thanks him quietly, then turns back and finds Hancock frowning still.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she says, crossing her arms. “And we’re not leaving until you do.”

He sighs, pressing his thin lips together for a moment. “Kendra...she’s a hell of a lot more dangerous than these idiots we’ve taken out already, and I still let you get shot yesterday. If we go after her...this isn’t fun and games anymore, Bluebird. You could get seriously hurt.”

“Other people are getting seriously hurt because of her,” she says softly. “It’s up to me to stop her.”

“Us,” he corrects. “It’s up to _us._ And maybe...we could use a little help on this one.”

She frowns. “Help?”

“That drunk back there mentioned MacCready,” he says. “He’s an asshole, but he’s an asshole for hire, and he’s good at what he does. If he’s looking for work, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring him along for this one.”

“I don’t know...”

Hancock opens his mouth again, but the sound of loud conversation from the back room catches their ears. They share a brief glance, then head for the noise.

“Listen up, MacCready,” a deep voice says. “The only reason we haven't filled your body full of bullets is that we don't want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect other people's boundaries. We know how to play the game. It's something _you_ never learned.”

“Glad to have disappointed you,” another man says.

“You can play the tough guy all you want, but if we hear you're still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?”

“You finished?”

“Yeah. We're finished. Come on, Barnes.”

Two grizzled, tough-looking men leave the room, glaring at her as they pass. She suppresses a shudder. When she peers into the room, she sees a surprisingly young-looking man sitting on one of the couches with his face buried in his hands.

“This is our guy?” she whispers skeptically.

“I know he’s not much to look at, but he’s good,” Hancock murmurs back. “Now we just gotta convince him to work for us.”

“Let me,” she says, stepping forward before he can protest.

The man—MacCready—looks up sharply before relaxing when he sees her.

 _Terrified,_ she thinks.

“I’ve been told I would find a great gunman in the back room of the Third Rail,” she says in the Shroud’s voice. “Have I been misinformed?”

The man frowns immediately, obviously bristling. “No, you haven’t,” he says in a clipped tone. “I’m the best shot for hire you’ll find in the whole Commonwealth. Maybe in the whole Wasteland, even.”

She can see what Hancock meant when he called the man an asshole, but something clicks in her mind, like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place. She already knows he’ll be coming with them.

"That's a big roar, little lion. Do you have the teeth to back it up?"

“I don’t have time for this,” he growls. “Are we doing this or not?”

She crosses her arms, raises her eyebrows, and looks down at him.

“You’re scared,” she says.

His eyes widen in shock for a second before he recovers and rolls his eyes.

“If you don’t want to hire me, lady, just say so.”

“You _want_ me to hire you so you don’t have to be alone when they come looking for you again.”

He swallows hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let me guess. You’re all alone with no friends and dozens of enemies who’d love to have your head on a plate, and you’re desperate for the first half-decent person with a gun to come along for you to latch onto.”

“I can take care of myself,” he grits out. “Always have. And I’m not here looking for _friends.”_

She shrugs. “Okay then. Here’s my offer. You’re welcome to tag along with us, but I’m not paying for the dubious pleasure of your company. What you get in return is two people, including the mayor himself,” she says, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to where Hancock leans against the door frame, “watching _your_ back if you watch ours. Or you can stay here and hope the next friendly person that comes along is more gullible. Up to you, little lion.”

She turns, finds Hancock looking bored and picking at his nails with his knife. She nods to him and leads the way out and up the stairs. They get outside and she crosses the plaza to lean against the brick wall.

“What the fuck was that?” Hancock hisses, but when she looks up he’s grinning, eyes sparkling in excitement.

“I _told_ you I could act,” she says. “I did this for a living. Now get over here and look casual.”

He forces the smile off his face with effort, then composes himself and leans against the wall next to her. He starts flipping the knife expertly through his fingers. Judith has to try very hard not to stare as he does it—there’s something mesmerizing about it, and she doesn’t know why.

Thirty seconds later, the merc bursts through the door of the Third Rail, looking around the square in a mild panic. Then he catches sight of them. He relaxes slightly, then sets his shoulders more confidently and walks over to them.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ve got nothing better to do. As long as I get my fair share of loot.”

“Naturally,” she says, injecting a hint of condescension into her tone. She has a feeling he isn’t going to respond well to kindness, at least not at first. For now, she has to be the boss.

They head out, Judith in the lead and Dogmeat at her side. She glances back when they reach the door. Hancock is grinning behind MacCready, and Judith has to bite her tongue to resist the urge to stick it out at him. He’s enjoying this far too much.

Again, Hancock is the one who knows where to go, and Judith hangs back at the back of the group as he takes point after they leave Goodneighbor. He and MacCready deal with threats as they come, though MacCready looks over his shoulder at her curiously more than a few times.

Once they reach the apartments, Hancock asks her to wait outside until he calls for her, and when Dogmeat sits down calmly to wait she agrees. MacCready looks even more sour.

The two clear out the bottom floor before calling her in, then make their way upstairs as she follows. As they near the top, Hancock stops.

“She’s in there. Stay back, Bluebird,” Hancock mutters. “She likes her mines, and I’d like you to stay all in one piece this time.”

MacCready’s face is hard as he watches their interaction, eyes narrowed, and Judith knows they’re going to have the talk she’s been waiting for after the fight. She’s just hoping he won’t take it too badly.

She sighs and impulsively wraps her arms around Hancock’s shoulders in a tight hug. “I’d rather you stay all in one piece, too,” she says. “Be careful.”

When she pulls back he gives her a lopsided grin and nods.

She watches them go, biting her lip and looking down at Dogmeat. His ears are perked up as he stares after Hancock.

“Well?”

Dogmeat huffs under his breath and trots ahead, paws soft and silent on the warped wood. She follows. At the top of the stairs, she watches quietly as Hancock stoops and expertly disarms a mine she wouldn’t have even seen. Something in her stomach flutters at the way his fingers move, but she shakes it off quickly.

The two men walk into the next room, and she sneaks closer.

“...thought the Silver Shroud would be the one taking me on,” she hears a woman say mockingly. “Is she too scared to face little old me herself?”

“More like too good to dirty her hands taking care of shit like you,” Hancock growls.

“Let’s just get this over with,” MacCready sighs.

“I couldn’t agree more,” the woman laughs.

Then Judith hears the clack of grenade on wood, and her heart stops. Hancock and MacCready dive through the doorway and each take a side, covering their ears as the grenade explodes. Chunks of wood fly out into the hallway.

“And here I thought the good mayor would be a challenge,” Kendra taunts. “Are you just going to hide out there?”

“Shit,” Hancock pants. “I didn’t expect her to have _grenades_ too.”

“Great,” MacCready says. “What now?”

“We—Bluebird, what are you doing up here? You’re supposed—”

There’s the soft sound of another pin being pulled, and Judith takes the chance and leaps forward. When the grenade hits the hallway floor she’s there to scoop it up, tossing it back into the room and straight for Kendra. Judith doesn’t wait to see what happens, grabbing Hancock’s arm and pulling him further down the hall away from the doorway. At the top of the stairs they both duck, clapping their hands over their ears.

“What—” is all Kendra manages. The explosion is followed by another, then another, rattling the whole building. Judith’s teeth clack together with the vibrations.

She counts six separate explosions before they all blend into one. When it stops, her ears are ringing and there are spots dancing in front of her eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hancock mutters. “You just don’t do things halfway, do you?”

She shrugs, not quite ready for speech yet. When she looks back she sees MacCready at the other end of the hallway, head ducked down low and shoulders covering his own ears, his hands covering Dogmeat’s. Her heart warms a little at the sight.

Slowly she and Hancock stand and walk back towards the room—or what’s left of it.

It’d be an understatement to say the floor in the room is caved in. It’d be more accurate to say there’s no longer any floor at all.

“Like to see you find the body to put the calling card on,” Hancock mutters with a short laugh.

She rolls her eyes, pulling a calling card out of her pocket and flicking it through the doorway. “Happy?”

He grins at her, and there’s that proud little light in his face again. She wants to just bask in it forever, but they still have a job to finish.

They wait for MacCready to pick through the rooms for loot, staring darkly through the doorway of the ruined room as though mourning for whatever might have been lost in the explosions, then they make their way down the stairs. MacCready is quiet as they walk.

“You _lied_ to me,” he finally says as they leave the building.

“No, I didn’t,” Judith says easily. This is exactly what she was expecting, really.

“You did! You said...wait a second.”

“What I _said_ was that you’d get two people watching your back and your share of the loot. That was the entire offer. I never claimed to be any good with a gun.”

He sighs, looking reluctantly impressed.

“Okay, you got me.”

“You’re not runnin’ off _now,_ are you?” Hancock says. “We were just starting to have fun.”

MacCready purses his lips, looking up at the sky. “Well...I don’t know.”

Judith puts on her best wide-eyed innocent face for when he looks back down at her. She can _see_ there’s a heart in there, she just has to get through to it. Dogmeat whimpers beside her, doing his best to help.

MacCready frowns when he meets her eyes. “Oh, come on, don’t do that. That’s not fair.”

She doesn’t relent until he has to look away.

“Ugh. Fine! Fine, let’s go play dress-up some more. There better be a reward at the end of all this.”

Judith and Hancock exchange a look. She bites down on her lip to keep from laughing and shrugs at him. He shakes his head with a smile.

She has a feeling MacCready won’t accept a “you did the right thing” and a pat on the back as a proper reward, but she’ll figure out something.

After a few minutes of walking, Hancock sighs.

“Hold up a second,” he says. “Somethin’ I need to tell you.”

She stops and looks up at him curiously, heart beating a little faster in her chest. MacCready takes the opportunity to light a cigarette and stands nearby, looking bored.

“Shoulda told you before, but you and Kenny-boy were having so much fun, and you really got me thinking about how I’ve been just standing by while these assholes kill innocent people in my neighborhood...but now we’ve walked into something a whole lot bigger.”

“What do you mean?” Judith says.

“These low-lives we’ve been taking out? They all belong to the same asshole. And that asshole’s going to want some good old-fashioned revenge, you dig? His name’s Sinjin. He’s taken two-bit raider outfits and made them...scary. Small fish now, but if left alone...look, Bluebird, I want you to stay back in Goodneighbor for this one. MacCready and I can handle the next couple targets together.”

“What? No!”

Hancock wipes a hand over his face in frustration. “I just...need to keep you safe, okay? I need you to do this for me.”

“Hancock, no,” she says firmly. “I’m coming with you. This is _our_ job, remember? _Us?_ ”

He’s still frowning, shaking his head. She reaches out and touches his shoulder.

“Scarecrow,” she says softly. “Don’t leave me behind waiting and wondering if you’re okay.”

Something in his face crumples, and she knows she’s won already when MacCready speaks up.

“To be fair, she _did_ save our ass—er, our butts back there,” he says. “I think you’re both underestimating her.”

Hancock sighs again. “Okay, okay. I know when I’m beat. Well, I happen to know where some of Sinjin’s other boys are. Smiling Kate operates outside of Bunker Hill, and Northy's got a pad over at Prospect Hill. We take them out and maybe we can find out where the big guy himself is stashed. Goodneighbor'd rest a whole lot easier with him out of the picture.”

“Sounds good,” MacCready says gruffly, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “This Sinjin sounds like he should have some pretty good armament that needs to be taken off his hands afterwards.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Hancock chuckles.

Her thoughts are heavy as the four of them walk.

 _I think you’re_ both _underestimating her,_ MacCready had said.

Is she underestimating herself? She does seem to handle herself well when it comes down to saving one of her friends. It’s only when she has time to think about what she’s doing that she freezes up and can’t get past her hangups about fighting and killing.

But this is killing to _save_ people. If they don’t take out these people, even more innocent people will die. Does that make killing them right? Or just less wrong?

And does that apply to all the raiders they’re fighting? She hates the idea of spilling any blood at all, but if it’s to save other people the raiders would have hurt if left alive, is it worth pushing through that?

Who is she to judge who deserves to live?

By the time they reach Bunker Hill, she’s got herself completely confused all over again. Still, she pulls her gun this time and walks only a few steps behind the other two, Dogmeat walking proudly with his head held high at her side.

There’s an entire group of raiders up ahead, and Judith’s heart nearly stops entirely. There’s so _many_ of them.

The group doesn’t open fire on them yet, and she notices they’re all circled around one woman, who steps forward as she sees them.

“If it isn't the girl behind the costume,” she says in an almost sultry voice. “You've been really naughty, Ms. Shroud, making all my friends so nervous with your calling cards, taking out Sinjin's favorite toy soldiers. But now it's time to rip your god-damned heart out,” she finishes in a shout, and the raiders open fire.

She feels a bullet skim the costume, but she keeps her focus on what’s happening instead of panicking. She dodges off to the side and behind a wall, pressing against it as she leans around it to take a few shots.

She doesn’t even notice her first kill until she realizes the man is gone the next time she peers back out. The group of raiders is thinning out quickly under the combined firepower of the three of them, and they’re backing themselves into a corner they won’t be getting back out of.

Judith reaches in her pocket and palms a grenade, ripping the pin out and tossing it easily into the center of the group. She ducks back behind the side of the building as the grenade explodes, and then there’s silence except for a weak coughing.

When she emerges, Smiling Kate is the only one left. She’s coughing up blood, legs useless, and yet she’s _still_ reaching for her weapon. Judith almost admires her tenacity. Before she can reach it, Judith is there, kicking it out of the way and aiming her gun at Kate’s forehead.

“Where is he?” she says bluntly.

Kate gives a gurgling laugh. “And what’ll you do if I tell you, let me live?”

“I’ll kill you quickly instead of leaving you to suffer,” Judith growls. She hears Hancock and MacCready walking up behind her.

“I’m not telling you or your little boy toys shit, Silver Slut,” the woman says.

Hancock steps around Judith, raises his shotgun, and pulls the trigger in one smooth motion. Judith winces and looks away from the gore splattered on the sidewalk.

“Why’d you do that?” she says, exasperated and fighting not to retch. “She could have told us something.”

“Not letting her talk about you like that,” he grumbles. “And she wasn’t going to tell us anything anyway. Come on, let’s go take out Northy.”

MacCready chuckles, then they start walking again. Her feet are getting tired and it’s getting late already, but she knows Hancock will insist on taking them back to Goodneighbor after this and making her get some rest. She won’t even argue this time. They’ve all earned a break.

When they come across the next group of raiders, she’s prepared for the usual cocky speech—which never comes.

The raiders open fire on them immediately. Judith feels a splinter of pain in her upper right arm and gasps, dropping down behind a car.

“Shi—shoot,” MacCready says beside her. “Stimpak?”

“I don’t,” she gasps. “I can’t...”

Then there’s a sharp stabbing pain in her arm, a yank, and it’s over. The empty syringe clatters to the ground, and MacCready leans around the car to keep fighting.

The pain eases, then vanishes. The throbbing in her arm is gone, and while there’s a hole in the costume, there’s no mark left on her arm.

And she didn’t even throw up.

“Grenade anytime would be nice,” the merc grunts between clenched teeth.

“Last one,” she says. She peers over the top of the car, gauges the distance, and tosses the grenade in an arc over her shoulder. The awkward angle means it’s a little off target, but not by enough to matter. Before the grenade explodes, she catches sight of a man running from the group as raiders yell after him. He doesn’t look like the rest of them—he must be Northy, she thinks. He races straight past them and back the way they’d come.

Then the explosion rings out, and the three of them are up and racing after the man.

Dogmeat runs ahead of them easily, and they hear a loud yelp around the next corner. When they reach him, Dogmeat has the man’s leg between his teeth and is holding him in place. The man is covering his head with his arms and doesn’t even have a weapon out.

“Mercy,” he gasps. “Please, mercy.”

Hancock raises his gun, but Judith stops him with a hand on his wrist.

“Wait!” she says. “You can’t just kill someone asking for mercy.”

“Bluebird,” he sighs, obviously frustrated with her. “That’s not how it works anymore.”

“I’ll—I’ll tell you where he is,” Northy babbles. “Just let me go, please, I don’t want to die, this isn’t what I signed up for, _please..._ ”

“Tell us, or I let him blow your head off,” Judith says flatly. The words still make her stomach turn.

“H-here,” Northy says. “It’s all on this holotape, I swear. He’s—he’s going to Goodneighbor to take out that guy at the radio station what’s been giving you the jobs.”

“Kent?” Judith breathes. “Kent’s in danger?”

“Fuck,” Hancock growls.

Dogmeat lets go of the man, who scrambles away unnoticed.

“What’s going on?” MacCready says, but Hancock and Judith are already running.

The tiredness in her feet and legs is forgotten, the stitch in her side unimportant. She has to get there in time. She _has_ to. It’s her story, and her stories always have happy endings. They don’t end with her friends dying because _she_ messed up.

She knows it’s already too late when they reach the door to Goodneighbor and it’s hanging open, a trail of blood leading out of the town on the cracked pavement. They run back to the Memory Den and burst inside.

“It's you!” Irma cries, jumping down from the stage and rushing over, wrapping Judith in her arms. “Oh, sugar, I told Kent all that hero stuff was going to get you both killed!”

“Killed?” Judith whispers. “He’s dead?”

“No,” Irma says quickly, shaking her head. “At least...I don’t think so. They...they took him. Raiders. Nothing but bloodlust in their eyes. We couldn't stop them. When they took him, they left you a message. Just listen to Kent's radio station. It keeps playing it over and over again.”

Judith has her Pip-Boy out and is fumbling with the dials in an instant.

"This is the Shroud's headquarters," a rasping voice says over the radio. “So you must be the Silver Shroud's little friend."

"Yes," she hears Kent say, sounding completely miserable.

"God, he must have been so scared," she mumbles. Hancock grips her shoulder tightly.

"If you want to see your friend alive, Shroud, meet me at Milton General Hospital,” the rasping voice is saying.

"Don't do it, Shroud, it's a trap! Save yourself!" Kent says, then there's a muffled gunshot and Kent groans in pain.

"Oh my god, do it, Shroud," he says, "do it! Oh, my knee..."

"Tick tock, Shroud," the first voice says again. "Don't keep me waiting. We got business that needs finishing.”

Judith falls to her knees. Hancock follows, pulling her into his arms and squeezing tight.

“Th-they shot him,” she sobs. “They’re going to _kill_ him. Oh god, Hancock, what are we going to do?”

Hancock shakes his head, stricken. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“Well,” MacCready says. They both look up at him. “If that recording is right, and your friend is at the hospital, then it sounds like we,” he says, patting his rifle, “have an appointment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm still alive (and still at [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu) if you want to come yell at me)


	12. A Horse of a Different Color

They pause only to restock their ammunition and grenades, leaving Irma with a promise to return with Kent alive and whole. Judith doesn’t want to think about the possibility that they might already be too late for that.

They move as a solid group now, her hesitation overpowered by fear and anxiety and, above all, anger. The unfortunate raiders they come across are lying in pieces before they know what’s happening to them, and MacCready barely has time to snatch the best loot from their hands before Hancock and Judith are off again.

They reach the hospital in what feels like ages, but is in reality no more than an hour’s journey. The sun has long since set. There’s a group of super mutants bumbling around and grunting at each other on the road between them and the entrance.

“Suicider,” she says, squinting to make out the mini nuke in its enormous green hand. She cups a grenade in her hand. “Think I can hit him from here?”

MacCready clears his throat next to her. “Just watch this,” he says. He raises his rifle, puts the scope to his eye, and takes a deep, slow breath. The shot rings out, and the mutants only have a second to shout their surprise before the explosion engulfs the street corner.

“Told you I’m a great shot,” he says with a smirk.

“I could’ve gotten that,” Judith grumbles.

“Sure, sure. But you didn’t, I did.”

“Only because you _stopped_ me.”

Hancock touches her gently on the shoulder, and she remembers herself. She nods at him and finally approaches the hospital, eyes roaming over the super mutants’ bodies for signs of life and thankfully finding none.

Once inside, they take out the first few raiders and pause to reload and regroup.

“He’ll probably have him under the gun as soon as we walk in the room,” Hancock mutters. “We’re gonna have to be careful.”

“What’s the plan? I can’t use my grenades if he’s got Kent with him,” she says. “I’m not a good enough shot to risk shooting him, either. I might hit Kent.”

“Good thing you’ve got a great sniper in your pocket, huh?” MacCready says smugly. She doesn’t answer, unwilling to admit he’s actually very skilled after he stole the super mutant kill from her. She didn’t get to see that proud look on Hancock’s face again, and she’s unreasonably bitter about it.

“Well, we don’t know where they’re holed up,” Hancock says, “or if there’s gonna be anywhere for you to snipe from. I hate to say it, but we might have to wing it.”

“Right,” Judith sighs. “We have to find them first, in any case.”

“Lead on, then,” MacCready says with a mocking bow. “Oh, wait, you don’t do that. Lead on, then, Mayor.”

Judith clenches her fists tight. Against Hancock’s strangled protests from behind her, she marches on ahead, taking the lead from him. He follows reluctantly, sticking close.

They fight their way through raiders and turrets, up and down the floors, until the last elevator doors open and she’s face to face with—

“Shroud! I wanna talk with you,” a familiar, rasping voice says. “You two, stay back in there. Keep your mutt with you or he dies first. Shroud, you come out here alone.”

Judith walks forward slowly, keeping her face hidden in the shadows under the brim of her hat. Her footsteps echo loudly in the tense silence. She’s scared and furious at the same time, and the sheer terror on Kent’s face is fueling her anger until all she wants to do is bash Sinjin’s face in herself. She’s never felt like this before. Something dark is swirling around in her mind, and she only knows one thing to do with it. She squares her shoulders, looks Kent in the eyes one last time, and melts away into something that’s not quite the Shroud—something _like_ the Shroud, but darker, scarier—something bloodthirsty.

“Sinjin,” she says, voice a low, dangerous rumble. “A strange place you’ve chosen as your tomb.”

The man scoffs. “Big words, bitch. Now take another step and your little pal here gets his brains blown out. We’re gonna have a nice, friendly chat, you and me.”

She keeps her head down, letting the shadows from her hat cover her eyes dramatically.

“You have two choices, Sinjin. Let Kent go and die quickly and painlessly, or...” She raises her head finally, looking him full in the face. She sees him visibly flinch at the fire in her eyes. “Or if you hurt him again, I won’t just kill you. I have a hundred ways to make you _wish_ you were dead, and you’ll get to learn each and every one of them. You’ll live long enough to find out what your insides look like, and then I’ll heal you, and we’ll do it again the next day—and don’t worry, I have _plenty_ of stimpaks. I can draw this out for a long, long time. And right before I’m finished with you, when you haven’t eaten for days, when you’re _desperate,_ you’ll get to find out what your own limbs taste like before I finally kill you.”

He stares back at her, mouth hanging open.

“Jesus _Christ,_ ” one of his lackeys mutters. “Fuck this, I’m gettin’ out of here.”

The other seems to agree, and they bolt out of the room.

“C-cowards!” Sinjin yells after them. She sees their opening—sees his shoulder move just slightly as his head turns, knows he’s going to lower the gun for at least a moment. She waits for it, holding her breath, and—

The crack of the shot pierces the air a split second after the barrel of Sinjin's gun moves away from Kent’s head. MacCready’s first hit staggers the ghoul. He stares down at Judith with horror, the knowledge that he’s about to die plain on his face, and she knows that in this moment, he _believes_ in the Silver Shroud.

A second shot rings out, and he’s down for good.

The room is silent. Kent stares at Judith, eyes still wide and fearful.

She rolls her shoulders back and shakes her head quickly, dropping out of character again before running up the stairs to Kent. He flinches back.

She frowns and stops. “Kent?”

“You—you wouldn’t really do all that stuff, would you?”

“God, _no,_ ” she says. “I can still barely even shoot a raider without crying, Kent. I used to act professionally, you know that.”

He relaxes, shaking his head and laughing nervously. “You—you sure had me convinced for a second.”

She frowns. “Kent...”

“I’m j-just shaken up,” he says. “After everything...”

“Of course,” she says softly. Then Hancock is by her side, untying Kent expertly and clapping him on the shoulder.

“Good to see you alive, Kenny-boy.”

“It’s g-good to see you, too,” Kent says, laughing nervously. His eyes fall back on Judith. “I never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life. Th-thank you. For coming for me.”

She blinks, stunned. “Well, of course I did, Kent. Did you really think I wouldn’t? You’re my friend! And anyway, it’s my fault you’re here.”

“N-no it’s not,” he sighs. “It’s mine. It was all my idea in the first place. But now, I just...give up. On all of it. Crime fighting just isn’t what I thought it’d be.”

“What did you think it’d be like, a comic book? Good guys always win and nobody gets seriously hurt?” MacCready snorts. Judith glares back at him.

“I knew it was bad out there,” Kent continues, shaking his head. “But this...I don’t even think the Silver Shroud himself could fix this disaster area.”

“Kent,” Judith says, cupping his warped cheeks with her soft hands. “Because of us, all the innocent people Sinjin and his lackeys would have killed in the future are going to live. Because of us, they’ll never terrorize anyone ever again. We just got rid of one of the most dangerous, sadistic people in the Commonwealth, Kent. We made a difference.”

“ _You_ did,” Kent says softly. “I just sat behind a radio.”

“Like you said, it was _your_ idea. I wouldn’t have known to do anything without you. After all,” she says, pressing an impulsive kiss to the top of Kent’s head, “what would the Shroud be without her faithful friend, Rhett Reinhart?”

She can see his eyes watering and pulls him into her arms for a tight hug.

“This...this means a lot to me,” he whispers. “Maybe you’re right. I’m...I’m gonna need some time to heal, you know? But then I think...I think I can start working on those upgrades to the costume I told you I was thinking about. Maybe someday we could do this again.”

“I’d like that,” she says. “And...” she glances up at Hancock, nervous about how he’s going to take this. “You can always come see us in Sanctuary, you know. Even stay if you want. We’re building up a little settlement there, my friends and I, and you’d always be welcome. It’s a little quieter than Goodneighbor.”

“Really? You’d really give me a place to stay?”

“Of course,” she says. “Not that Goodneighbor isn’t a great place, but...” She looks up at Hancock again, relieved to find him smiling.

“But the Goodneighbor lifestyle ain’t for everyone,” Hancock finishes for her. “If it’s what you want to do, we’ll get you there.”

“Thanks, guys. For everything.”

MacCready sighs, and Judith looks back at him.

“Go on, ransack the place,” she says. “Take everything that’s not nailed down.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, brightening instantly. He picks through Sinjin’s pockets and through the room behind him, ignoring the cowering raiders whimpering and begging for their lives.

“You be good kids, now, or the Shroud will come back for you,” he snickers as he leaves the room. “Well, I’m all ready to go. How are we getting the little guy out of here with a bullet wound in the knee?”

“First off,” Hancock says, examining the knee. “Good. Bullet’s not in there anymore. Stimpaks, Bluebird?”

She hands him two, then looks away as he applies them. When he’s finished Kent can stand and walk, though he’s still limping heavily. They decide that Hancock will go ahead of and MacCready behind them while Kent leans on Judith.

They leave the hospital and make their way back to Goodneighbor even more slowly in the dim moonlight, though they run into few threats by following the path they’d already taken.

Once they’re back, they lead Kent straight to the Memory Den.

Irma gasps as they round the corner into the main room, running down the short stairs and across the room to pull Kent into a tight hug until he can’t breathe.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re okay! Oh, god, I was so worried...”

“I’m f-fine,” Kent says once she relaxes her hold. “Dorothy and Hancock and their friend saved me and healed me up. I just need some rest and I’ll be g-good as new.”

“And then you’ll stop with this awful superhero business, right?”

“I might be moving out of Goodneighbor,” he says—expertly dodging the question, Judith can’t help but notice. “There’s a settlement Dorothy and her friends are setting up. They say it’s quieter there. I’ll be able to work on my projects in peace, and you’ll have your room back.”

“Oh, honey, that sounds wonderful for you. We’ll all miss you, though. You’ll come back to visit, of course?”

“Of course.”

They take him back to his room and deposit him on his chair. He sighs happily.

“Now I can get back to working on your dress,” he says. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long.”

“Don’t worry about that, you just rest,” Judith says.

“N-no, it’ll be good for distracting myself. I think I’ll sit with Irma while I work on it and we can talk.”

They leave him after making him promise to let them know if he needs anything at all, then walk back outside to the street.

“God, it’s almost two in the morning,” MacCready groans. “I’m getting a bed at the hotel and passing out. Don’t wake me up.”

“Tell Clair to put it on my tab,” Hancock grumbles. “C’mon, Bluebird.”

He leads her back down to his room, where she changes back into Irma’s nightgown and then they sit on the edge of the bed together and quietly eat a mutfruit each as their dinner for the night.

“You awake enough to read some more of that book?” Hancock asks. “Need something to help me unwind.”

“Sure,” she says, but reaches out to stop him when he goes to sit in the armchair. “You’re going to wake up with a sore neck and back again if you fall asleep there.”

He smiles almost nervously. “So where am I supposed to sit, then?”

She slips under the covers and scoots over, patting the bed next to her over the blankets. He looks even more nervous, but sits.

She tries to pay no attention to the fluttering in her chest as she picks up the book and lies back on the pillow to read.

“Springtime,” she says. “Snowbell, the cat, enjoyed nighttime more than daytime. Perhaps it was because his eyes liked the dark. But I think it was because there are always so many worthwhile things going on in New York at night...”

—

She doesn’t want to open her eyes. She’s warm, and though her mind is too tired yet to connect the scent with a source, she knows it smells like comfort and goodness and something peaceful and exciting all at once. She just wants to breathe it in and lie here forever.

Then she hears Hancock’s voice again.

“Bluebird?” he mumbles. “Gotta give me my arm back. C’mon, wake up.”

She keeps her eyes closed, unwilling to give this up just yet. He sighs.

Suddenly there’s a hand stroking through her hair, rough skin catching on the curls. She tries not to tense up in surprise and fails.

“Bluebird,” he says again, a little louder, and she knows she can’t pretend anymore. She opens her eyes and looks up into his.

“Hey,” she says simply.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, not moving his hand. They just lie there looking at each other for a little while.

“Dorothy,” he says suddenly. “Are you...”

There’s a knock on the door, followed by loud yelling.

“If you guys aren’t paying for my services, you’re at least paying for my breakfast. Lunch. Whatever, just get up.”

She finally sits up. Hancock takes his arm back and gets off the bed immediately, crossing to the other side of the room and putting as much distance between them as possible.

She can feel her cheeks heating as she realizes that she must have made him uncomfortable, clinging to him in her sleep like that. She’s not even sure what happened—last she remembered, there was a good two feet between them as she read, and then...

“Let’s go before he breaks down my door,” Hancock mumbles, slipping his shoes on and leaving the room before she has a chance to respond. Somehow she’s not at all hungry this morning, but she follows him down to the Third Rail again anyway.

The three of them sit together in the corner, MacCready wolfing down two brahmin steaks and Judith picking at her eggs as Hancock has a breakfast of what looks like a couple breath mints from a little tin in his pocket.

“So once Kent’s finished with your dress, we’ll head back to Sanctuary and he can tag along,” Hancock says, breaking the long, awkward silence. “We’ll see what Nicky’s figured out meantime, and we can go from there.”

“Sounds good,” she murmurs, then looks up at MacCready. “Are you going to come with us?”

He frowns. “Still not sure. What’re you even doing out here besides playing dress-up and scaring raiders?”

“I’m looking for my sister,” she says. “She’s...missing.”

His face is unreadable for a moment, even for her.

“Yeah,” he says casually. “I guess I’ll stay with you guys for now. As long as I keep getting my share of the loot, we’ll get along fine. Besides, Dogmeat here would miss me if I left.”

“He’d miss the scraps of steak you’re feeding him under the table, anyway,” she says with a grin. His eyes widen for a moment, then he laughs.

“That too.”

Hancock stays fairly quiet, but she still manages to finish breakfast in better spirits than she was when they started. They head to the Memory Den to check on Kent afterwards.

Irma smiles knowingly as Judith walks in, nodding to the side room. When she enters, the first thing she sees is her dress on a hanger on the wall.

“It looks...perfect,” she breathes. “Is it done? There’s no way...”

“Oh, it’s done,” Kent says from the corner. “I think it m-might be my best work yet, too.”

She reaches out and feels the fabric, still whisper-soft and pliable. “Can I put it on?”

“Of course.”

The others leave the room to let her change. She does wish there was a mirror in the room, but she knows from hundreds of hours of rehearsal and performing exactly how she looks in this, rich brown skin contrasting beautifully with the pale blue and white gingham, the tight curls of her hair adding to the innocent, almost angelic look. If only she had the ruby slippers, it’d be perfect.

She emerges from the room grinning widely, twirling around to show the dress off. MacCready looks unimpressed, but Hancock is smiling warmly back at her.

“Thank you so much, Kent,” she says, throwing her arms around him. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

“Let me pay you something,” Hancock insists.

“Y-you guys already did what I asked,” Kent says. “And you’re giving me a new home, too. That’s more than enough.”

Hancock frowns, but lets the subject drop.

They help Kent pack up his few things, and then it’s time to say goodbye. Irma is tearful as she hugs him and presses wet kisses to the bashful ghoul’s cheeks, making him promise to send word that he’s safe once he gets to Sanctuary. Daisy forces him to take some extra food and stimpaks free of charge, and Fahrenheit nearly scares him to death when she claps him on the shoulder out of nowhere and wishes him luck in his new home.

Then they’re off, and the persona of the Silver Shroud is left behind, to live on in the dark alleyways and hushed whispers until she returns again.

The journey is familiar by now, and Judith is able to keep an eye out on her surroundings and chat pleasantly with Kent at the same time as they walk.

“And you’ll like Preston, he’s one of the real good guys out here,” she says. “He really just wants to help people. He’s the one that taught me to shoot. He’s the last of the Minutemen.”

“W-wow, the Minutemen? I thought they all quit or died in Quincy.”

“Except for Preston, they did,” she says softly. “But he’s still here, and he escorted some setters from there up to Concord, and I ran into them there and they took me in.”

“After you saved all their asses, you mean,” Hancock says, still sounding grumpy.

“Who told you about that?”

“You kidding? Sturges couldn’t shut up about it. You really make an impression, Bluebird.”

Her cheeks flush again, and she turns back to Kent. “Anyway, will you be able to set up your radio station again out here?”

“Oh, sure, but it’d be nice if I could build a radio beacon to boost the signal.”

“A...beacon?”

“Yeah, you know, like the Minutemen used to use. Hey, if we built one, you could use it to put out a call for m-more settlers.”

“Do you know _how_ to build one?”

“Well...more or less. I should just need the p-parts. If you know where we can get a couple spare old telephones...”

“There might be something to salvage around there,” she says. “I’ll help you find what you need.” After all, Mama Murphy did tell her she was going to bring more people to them...

They crest the last hill, and she gets her first glimpse of the guard tower. It’s Preston keeping watch this time. He grins when he sees her, hopping down to catch her in his arms when she runs to him.

“Safe and sound again, I see,” he says.

“Of course. And newly upgraded,” she says, pulling back and twirling to show off her dress.

“You look beautiful,” Preston says as the others catch up to her.

“She looked fine before, too,” Hancock grumbles.

Preston frowns. “I...didn’t say she didn’t.” He gives Judith a questioning look. She just shrugs. She has no idea what’s going on with Hancock today.

Nick is the next to appear to greet them, nodding approval of Judith’s dress and frowning at the dark look on Hancock’s face.

“This is Kent,” she says, pulling the nervous-looking ghoul up to stand next to her. “He’s the one who modified my dress. He’d like a place to stay here, too. Goodneighbor is a little...lively for him. Is there still room?”

“Of course. Mama Murphy’s had us building and salvaging extra beds this whole time, so there’s lots of room,” Preston says. “She keeps saying more people will be coming. I guess she’s already right, huh?”

“As usual,” she says. “And this is MacCready. He’s...helping us out for a while. We decided we could use the extra firepower.”

“Smart idea,” Preston says. He shakes MacCready’s hand, then lets Jun take over guard duty and leads the group back to the cooking fire to start lunch.

“It’s you!” Judith hears. She whirls around to find the Vault-Tec representative—this time smiling brightly and looking pleased to see her.

“You made it,” she says with a smile in return. “How do you like it here?”

“Oh, it’s great,” he says. “I feel like a whole new ghoul. Look at the two of us here in Sanctuary. Prepared for the future!”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” she says truthfully. “Did you ever meet Kent in Goodneighbor? He’s come to stay, too.”

The ghoul somehow brightens even more and thanks her, going to find Kent himself to catch up.

When she turns back to the camping fire, she sees Preston and Sturges standing off by themselves, talking about something serious, by the looks on their faces. Finally, Sturges shakes his head and walks away.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, touching Preston’s arm gently as he approaches the group again.

He looks down at her for a moment, hesitating, then sighs. “I’ve gotten word that there’s a settlement out there asking for the Minutemen’s help. But you already know the problem with that. I’m the only one left, and I can’t just leave. We’ve already dealt with a raider attack once, and it took _all_ of us to take them out.”

“You didn’t tell me about that,” she says, frowning.

He looks a little guilty, but shrugs. “I didn’t want to worry you. Anyway, I hate to not answer the call, but...I’m not sure there’s anything else I can do.”

“It’s up to you, now,” Mama Murphy says, and when they turn she’s looking at Judith.

“Me? What do you mean?”

“You’re going to put the pieces back together, kid. You’re the only one that can.”

“I don’t understand,” Judith says. “My sister—”

“She’ll come to you, now. You just need to get her attention. But you have to be ready for her, and you’ve got a job to do again, kid. It’s not gonna be easy, but it’s yours. I told you you were gonna find your place out here.”

“And this is how I’m going to...find my place?”

“Trust me. Trust your friends. Most of all, trust _yourself._ You can do this.”

“This is a _paying_ job, right?” MacCready says dryly.

“You’ll get your reward if you stick with her,” Mama Murphy says to him. “Though it won’t be paid in money.”

“Well, I’m not really into participation trophies, so—”

“If you want to save him, this is the path you need to take,” she says. He stiffens, eyes wide, and seems to stop breathing altogether.

It feels like an eternity before he answers again. “Okay,” he says, sounding smaller and more vulnerable than he has since Judith met him.

She wants badly to ask who they’re talking about, but gets the feeling she wouldn’t get an answer yet.

“Let’s let them rest first, Mama,” Preston says.

“Oh, sure, but you better leave soon. Tomorrow, maybe.”

Judith sighs, seeking out Hancock in the group and finding him sitting a little ways away on the sidewalk. She walks over to him and plops down beside him heavily.

“So we’re heading out again already?”

“Looks like,” she says. “Is that...is that okay with you? Do you need to get back to Goodneighbor?”

“Bluebird,” he says. “As long as you want me around, I’ll be around.”

“Well then, I guess you’re stuck with me, Scarecrow,” she says, desperate to see the smile she hasn’t seen all day. “Because I’ll always want you around.”

What she gets isn’t the smile she’d hoped for, but it’s better, somehow. His face softens, the tension melting out of his shoulders as he sits up a little straighter.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to always be around,” he says.

Impulsively, she reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it tight.

Finally, he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW KISS
> 
> (come find me on tumblr @ [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu) as always)


	13. The Small and Meek

Nick wakes her up early the next morning and leads her outside and down to the section of beach where she and Hancock spent the afternoon skipping rocks.

“So I talked with Codsworth while you were gone,” he says. “He didn’t say much, but he did give me some information.”

“I actually learned something too,” she says. “The Vault-Tec representative I sent up here? Ruby found him in Goodneighbor about a year ago. She was trying to get into the vault and thought he might know how.”

He frowns. “Why now, I wonder? Two hundred years and she’s just now trying to get in?”

Judith shrugs. “Well, what did Codsworth tell you?”

“She’s definitely a ghoul, but I think we already knew that. He didn’t remember when she showed up, but he remembered her spending a lot of time up at the vault entrance. She asked him a lot of questions about the vault and about the day the bombs fell.”

“How’s it—uh, he—doing?” she tries. It’s still hard for her to think of Codsworth as a sort of person, but everyone else seems to see him as one. She knows she’s said the right thing when Nick smiles kindly at her.

“Better. He’s talking more, and he isn’t still pretending his family is alive and coming back. He doesn’t understand why he can’t call you Judith, but he agreed not to.”

She nods silently, a wave of guilt washing over her.

“You thought any more about telling them?”

“Not really. I’ve been...kind of busy. I’ll tell everyone about what we’ve been up to over breakfast.”

“Well, you know what I think.”

“I do,” she says quietly. “I’ll think about it some more, I promise.”

He nods, then suddenly tugs her in for a one-armed hug. “It’s good to see you again, kid. It’s been awfully boring up here without you and Hancock around. Preston’s good company, but Sturges just wants to examine me.”

“That’s...awfully rude,” she says with a frown, then ducks her head. “Though I guess I can’t really talk, can I?”

He chuckles.

“When you two are ready, we’re making breakfast,” Preston’s voice comes from nearby, making Judith jump.

Nick nods, then heads off towards the cooking fire. Preston is frowning at her, looking confused.

“What’s wrong?” she says.

“I’m not sure,” he says slowly, staring at her.

“Oh,” she says softly. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know there’s something you’re not telling us.”

“It’s...it’s nothing, really,” she says quickly.

“If it’s nothing, why is it a big secret?”

“It’s just embarrassing,” she says, staring down at the ground and scuffing the dirt with her foot.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know. I...I want to, but I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Dorothy...”

“Judith,” she says before she can lose her nerve. “My...my name’s Judith.”

She keeps her eyes on the dirt, can feel herself trembling a little, waiting for his response.

“Is that all?” he finally says. “Is that the secret?”

“Yes,” she says softly. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I just...still thought I was dreaming when you asked me my name. Dorothy is the character that wore this dress.”

She isn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t for him to _laugh._

“You had me really worried, you know that? I thought it might be something really bad. I guess I should have known better.”

She looks up finally. “You’re not mad?”

“Of course I’m not mad. You can go by whatever name you want to. Lots of people go by names they weren’t born with. It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?”

He grins, shakes his head, and pulls her in for a hug. “You can be whoever you want. I won’t love you any less.”

Her chest fills with the warmth of affection mixed with relief, and she leans into him. “I love you too, Preston,” she says.

Hancock clears his throat from nearby. “Uh, Mama Murphy asked me to come get you two,” he says. “But if you’re...busy?”

“Oh, no,” Judith says. “Just talking.”

Hancock nods, not looking at her, and walks abruptly away.

“God, what is his problem these last couple days?” she says.

“I think I’m starting to figure it out,” Preston mumbles.

“Really? What do you think it is?”

He blinks in surprise as though he hadn’t meant to speak out loud. “No, I don’t want to say it in case I’m wrong and I just make things worse. If I’m right, we’ll probably find out soon enough anyway.”

She frowns, but drops it. It’s too early and she’s too hungry to deal with this right now.

As promised, she relates the story of the Silver Shroud over breakfast, Hancock and Kent adding their commentary as she goes.

“Then Dorothy comes in and tells Sinjin she’s going to m-make him eat his own limbs,” Kent says excitedly. “And the other two are so scared they just run right out of the room!”

“Jesus, Dorothy,” Preston says, but he laughs. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It _wasn’t_ me,” she says. “I was in character. And anyway, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Damn straight it did,” Hancock says, sounding proud. “I knew you were a good actress, but that was pretty amazing, Bluebird.”

She smiles at him, gratified when she gets a real smile back. Then Preston puts a hand on her arm, and Hancock looks away again.

“Feel like showing me what you’ve learned? You could come on patrol with me this morning. Shouldn’t run into much, but there are sometimes wild dogs and bloatflies around to take care of.”

“That sounds like fun,” she says. “Sure.”

He looks pointedly at Hancock. “You could come too, if you wanted.”

Hancock looks shocked, but covers it quickly and shrugs nonchalantly. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way. I’ll just hang out back here with Nicky and catch up.”

“Get in the way of _what?_ ” Judith mumbles, but nobody seems to hear.

She and Preston set off after breakfast, their guns newly cleaned and ready for action. At first they only see bloatflies, as Preston predicted, but then as they’ve nearly completed their circuit, they hear voices nearby. Both of them duck down quickly and sneak towards the noise, which seems to be coming from the Red Rocket.

“...heard they got clean water and lots of food and it’s barely defended,” one voice snickers. “Should be a bloodbath.”

“You better be right about this,” another voice says, sounding bored. “The Queen’ll have your head if this goes bad _again.”_

“No, no, it’ll be great,” the first says. “Smooth as...smooth as, uh...”

“Silk?”

“Whatever, sure, that. It’ll go smooth, anyway.”

They peer over the hill, and Judith counts six raiders within sight. She nods to Preston, who looks worried, but nods back.

She’d rather not use a grenade this close to the Red Rocket, considering they’re still thinking of using it as a sort of workshop soon. She’s more confident with her pistol now, anyway, and the bloatflies were a good warmup.

She closes her eyes for a moment to push the nagging worries about killing out of her mind to think about later once the danger is over. They creep a little closer, then Judith raises her weapon.

She aims carefully, counts down from ten, and fires.

Her first shot connects beautifully, hitting the raider’s skull and dropping them instantly. Her stomach lurches uncomfortably, but part of her is cheering for her improved aim at the same time.

_They were going to kill us,_ she reminds herself. _They were going to hurt my friends. They would have hurt Hancock._

With that, her guilt melts away, and she trains her gun on a second raider. They’re confused and yelling, drawing their weapons, but they still haven’t spotted the two of them. Preston fires his gun, and another raider drops. It takes her two shots to take the next out, then there’s only three left.

“Fuck this, I’m getting out of here,” one shouts, then begins running in the opposite direction. She and Preston both ignore them, taking out the last two before they can figure out their position.

“Do we go after them?” Preston sighs.

“I don’t kill people that are running away or asking for mercy,” she says firmly. “I won’t do it. If you want to go after them, you’ll be on your own.”

He looks at her for a long moment, then smiles. “You’re really too good for this wasteland, you know that?” he says. “Are you comfortable looting them with me, or do you need to hang back?”

She shrugs. “I don’t _like_ doing it, but...I’m getting used to it. I don’t think I’ll ever be completely okay with it, but....”

He nods, and she follows him down the hill. They recover a decent amount of guns and ammunition, a few pieces of armor, and even a few stimpaks.

“You know,” he says as they head back to Sanctuary. “I wasn’t really sure about you doing this, but now...well. You’ve really come a long way.”

“I won’t be alone, either,” she says. “Hancock’s already promised to come, and of course MacCready’s coming. I hope Nick will, but I haven’t asked him yet.”

“Hancock...” Preston says. “He takes good care of you, doesn’t he?”

“Of course he does. He gave me his bed and slept in a chair the first night we were there. He always makes sure I’m fed and have lots of water, and he was so gentle with me when he had to give me the stimpak, and he never makes me do anything I’m not comfortable with...”

“Good, good. Just making sure. And this other guy you picked up, what’s he like?”

“So far? Mostly an asshole, but a harmless one. All he cares about is money. He’s a good shot, though,” she adds reluctantly. “So he’s useful, even if he is annoying.”

Preston chuckles. They cross the bridge and run right into Nick and Hancock, who blink at the armful of weapons in each of their arms.

“Bloatflies were loaded, huh?” Hancock says.

“We ran into some raiders at the Red Rocket,” Preston says, “but they didn’t give us any trouble.” He smiles proudly at Judith and gently nudges her arm with his elbow.

Hancock looks away. “Glad nobody got hurt,” he says. “Come on, Nicky, let’s go take care of that...thing we were going to do.”

Nick sighs. “Sure, sure. Good job, kid.”

She’s beyond confused and beginning to get frustrated and angry with Hancock avoiding her. She doesn’t know how to apologize for something she did in her sleep, but she’s sure that’s the cause of all this.

“I need to go fix this,” she says. “I don’t know how, but I do. I’ll put these in the house and we can go through them later.”

“Okay,” Preston says gently. “Good luck.”

She drops the guns off, then tracks Nick and Hancock down. They’re sitting at one of the picnic tables that survived the blast, just staring quietly over the river.

“That thing you were going to do, huh?”

Hancock jumps. “Bluebird,” he says. “Uh, we were...”

“Nick, can I talk to Hancock alone for a minute?”

“Please do,” Nick grumbles, getting up and nodding to her as he leaves.

She sits down in his spot, and for a second they’re both quiet. Hancock fidgets where he sits, eyes darting around like he’s looking for an escape.

“I’m sorry,” she says. He finally looks at her, frowning.

“What for?”

“I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry.”

“Made me uncomfortable?”

“When I...when we woke up yesterday.”

“That didn’t make me uncomfortable, Bluebird, it just seemed, uh...inappropriate.”

That stings almost more than the thought that he was uncomfortable with it. Does he see her as a little kid or something? She guesses a lot of ghouls must see humans that way, but she didn’t think _he_ would.

“Oh,” is all she can think to say. “I just...you’ve been avoiding me, and I can’t take it anymore. I miss my friend.”

He sighs. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to avoid you. Just seemed easier that way.”

“Well, stop it.”

He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

Finally, he puts an arm around her shoulders in an awkward half-hug.

“Friends?”

“Friends,” she echoes, though her chest feels hollow at the word, somehow.

“We should be leaving soon,” she sighs after another minute. “I don’t really want to go yet, but the longer we wait, the more likely it is people are going to get really hurt. I guess this settlement’s being attacked by raiders regularly, and they need us to help get rid of them.”

“Always up for killing raiders,” Hancock says, sounding more cheerful than he has since they left Goodneighbor. “Let me get my stuff and tell Nick to get ready.”

“Is he coming too?” she says, relieved and excited. “I was afraid to ask, but I was hoping.”

“Course he is. He said, and I quote, ‘if I have to weed another damn tato I’m going to short circuit’.”

Judith giggles, then they get up and walk back to the houses side by side. She gathers her things and has Preston mark the settlement’s location on her Pip-Boy map. Thankfully it doesn’t look terribly far away. It’s called Tenpines Bluff, he tells her, and it’s small, with only a handful of people living there.

MacCready is already ready when they find him, looking bored and fiddling with his rifle. He seems about as eager to leave as Nick does. She’s not sure if he’s uncomfortable being out in the open for too long with people after his head or if he’s just getting tired of Mama Murphy’s significant looks in his direction.

Finally they set out together. It feels somehow _right_ , and she’s sure it’s just the dramatic side of her putting together pieces of a puzzle that doesn’t exist, but she has her Toto, Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion with her now, and it feels like something is _complete_ now. She feels like they’re whole.

They run into few threats on the way to the settlement, only a few more bloatflies and bloodbugs—which she absolutely _detests,_ disgusting things.

They arrive in the early afternoon. Judith seeks out one of the settlers that seems to be taking a break from farming.

“Excuse me,” she says.

“You a new trader?” the woman says, peering around as if looking for her pack brahmin.

“No, no, nothing like that.”

"Well then, who the hell are you?"

"I'm with the Minutemen," Judith says with what she hopes is a comforting smile. "How can we help?"

The woman's eyes travel slowly over the five of them, and Judith realizes acutely how strange they must look—a young, nearly unarmed girl in a dress, a ghoul in a fancy costume, a half-broken old synth in a trenchcoat, and a dog in goggles and a bright red bandana. MacCready is the only one that looks remotely competent, but even he’s staring off into the distance, looking bored.

She can't blame the woman for being skeptical.

"Look, I know we don't look much like Minutemen, but we're here to help. Just tell us what you need."

The woman sighs and wipes the back of her hand over her forehead.

"It's this group of raiders that took over a building nearby. They've been attacking every night, and the attacks are getting worse. They've killed two of our brahmin already."

Judith glances back at the others, catching Hancock's eye first. He winks back at her. Nick gives an almost imperceptible nod.

"Just point us in the right direction," Judith says. "We'll take care of those raiders for you."

The woman gives her directions, and Nick marks it on her Pip-Boy. The settlers stare after them as they leave, and Judith knows they don’t expect to see them come back alive. She’s even more determined to prove herself than she was before, not least of all because it’s the Minutemen’s reputation she’s now carrying on her shoulders. She has to make Preston proud.

It’s a longer journey to the old office building the raiders are holed up in, but the sun is still up when they reach it.

“Dogmeat and I can take the back entrance,” Mac whispers as they huddle outside. “You three take the front.”

Judith nods, letting Hancock and Nick lead the way. She may be getting braver, but she’s not quite brave enough to be the first one in.

They creep inside, taking out the first few raiders they see as quietly as they can. Hancock picks over the bodies for stimpaks and ammo, also pocketing a few inhalers and more of those tins of what seem to be breath mints.

Judith glances around the room for anything else that might come in handy, and grins when her eyes light on something else.

“Hey Nick,” she says, holding up the half-full oil can and grinning impishly. He chuckles and shakes his head, but Hancock narrows his eyes.

“Dorothy...” he growls.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Nick says. “It’s...something of an inside joke, you could say.”

Hancock frowns and looks between them, then away.

“Now, don’t pout,” Nick scolds.

“I’m not pouting.”

“You’re definitely pouting,” Judith says.

“I’m _not._ I don’t care. I have my _own_ inside jokes.”

“Hancock, those are just called thoughts,” Judith says.

Nick barks out a surprised laugh, and Hancock’s frown deepens. He mutters to himself as they leave the room and head down the hallway, and Judith can’t stop exchanging amused glances with Nick.

“You think I’m too stupid to get your jokes?” Hancock finally says.

“Of course we don’t,” Judith says. Then before she can stop herself, she continues with, “Your head ain’t made of straw, you know.”

Nick has to stop walking, he’s laughing so hard. Hancock glares back at them both, then storms off alone.

“Wait!” Judith calls out. She runs to catch up, though she can’t quite stop giggling. “Hey, I’m sorry,” she says. Hancock stops, but doesn’t look at her.

“Look, they’re just...pre-war references we both get, okay? It’s just nice having someone else that remembers.”

Hancock sighs and looks back at her. “Coulda said that in the first place. Anyway, I’m glad you and him are getting along, at least.”

“Hancock, you know I don’t think you’re stupid. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs. “Not exactly a genius anyway.”

She frowns, opening her mouth to argue, when she hears Dogmeat barking from the other side of the hall and MacCready yelling.

With a brief glance, Hancock and Judith race down the hall towards the noise.

They have to run down a flight of stairs into the basement to find him. When they reach the bottom, they find him backed into a corner, a handful of feral ghouls closing in on him, another still crawling out of a drain set into the floor. MacCready seems to be frozen with fear.

Judith runs off to the side so that the ghouls are no longer between her and MacCready and pulls her gun, aims, and fires.

She and Hancock take out the rest of the ghouls before Nick even gets to them, then Judith is at MacCready’s side and looking him over.

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

He just shakes his head, and Hancock takes her gently by the shoulder and leads her away while Nick stands with MacCready, forcing him to drink a bottle of water.

“What was that about?” she whispers as they reach the stairs again.

“He lost his wife to a pack of ferals,” Hancock whispers. “Had to watch them tear her up in front of him. He doesn’t do so good with ferals ever since.”

“Oh, god, that’s awful,” she whispers, looking back. MacCready has his hands covering his face and is shaking his head. “We’re not letting him go off alone again,” she says firmly.

“Good idea,” Hancock says, squeezing her shoulder.

They stick together as a group after that, MacCready too shaken to even bring up splitting up again. She’s worried about him, but Hancock insists they finish the job so they can get it over with and get out of there. She can’t really argue with that.

Once they’re satisfied the lower level is clear, they head up the stairs. At first it’s easy—small clusters of raiders spaced out between rooms, too drugged out to pay attention to the approaching gunfire until it’s too late.

Then they reach the uppermost floor. It’s unnervingly quiet, all the rooms empty, until the very last room at the end of the hallway.

Inside is a tall man armed with a super sledge. He sneers when he sees them.

“It’s _you,”_ he says, looking at Hancock and MacCready. “The assholes what killed Sinjin off. What, you coming for us next? ‘Cause I promise you, Sinjin was nothing next to the Queen. You better back the fuck off if you know what’s good for you. And anyway, where’s your precious Silver Shroud, huh? She too scared to show her face outside that rat’s nest they call Goodneighbor?”

“Who’s the Queen?” Judith asks, frowning, before Hancock can step in to defend her honor as the Shroud again.

“You ain’t heard of the—no, why am I telling you shit? You’re gonna be dead in a minute anyway. Say your prayers, assholes.”

The man swings at Hancock first, who leaps backwards out of the way and is shooting a split second later. The man’s armor is thick, face and head covered with a sturdy helmet. None of them have any luck getting a shot that does more than dent his armor. He keeps swinging, laughing maniacally as he goes. Before long they’re all sweating and panting and getting nowhere.

Then he’s got his back turned to Judith, and she sees her opening. He seems to have decided, thankfully, that she’s not a threat to him, and she has plenty of time to creep a little closer and line up the shot.

She takes a deep breath and shoots, hitting the little gap of skin between the back of the helmet and the top of his armor. He makes a single strangled, guttural noise as he falls, the sledge hitting the floor with a loud crack of wood.

“Shi— _shoot_ ,” MacCready says. “That...was a good shot.”

Judith says nothing, choosing to just look smug for a while as they search the room.

On the body itself, they uncover a holotape.

“Orders,” Nick mutters. “Labeled from...’the Queen of Hearts’. Never heard of her before.”

“Me either,” Hancock says, frowning. “And I know everyone.”

Judith detaches her Pip-Boy and lets them have it to play the tape, then leaves them mumbling together to help MacCready search the rooms.

Nick and Hancock meet up with them as they reach a large room at the other end of the hall that was once an employee break room. They return her Pip-Boy to her, exchanging dark looks as Nick pockets the holotape itself. The tables and chairs in the room are shoved off to the side, leaving a wide open space in the center.

Judith looks around and spots a small pile of holotapes on one of the tables. She picks them up, expecting more orders, and is shocked to instead find that they’re...

“Music,” she says. “Billie Holiday, Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, and...oh, god, I haven’t heard this in forever,” Judith gasps. “I used to love this song.” She sets the Pip-Boy on the counter, popping the holotape in.

MacCready sighs and leans against the wall, crossing his arms. Nick takes a seat at one of the chairs and smiles as the first notes play.

She spins, letting the skirt twirl gracefully around her, and catches Hancock just standing there, watching her. His face is unreadable.

A moment later, she gets an idea. A terrible idea, probably, but one she can’t shake.

She holds out a hand to him. “Dance with me?”

His eyes widen in shock, and she’s even more sure this was a terrible idea, until he turns and sets his shotgun on the counter and then takes her hand with a grin.

His other hand comes to rest on her waist, and he takes the lead. She’s surprised to find he actually seems to know what he’s doing, and resolves to find out later just where he learned to dance. Right now, though, she’s not feeling like asking questions.

_Earth angel,_  
_Earth angel,_  
_Will you be mine?_  
_My darling dear,_  
_Love you all the time._  
_I'm just a fool,  
_ _A fool in love with you._

The dance isn’t perfect—they’re not practiced, not quite perfectly in sync, but they find a rhythm soon enough. She twirls away to arm’s length, then lets him pull her back into his arms. Her hand goes back to his shoulder, his back to her waist, and they sway and step together. He’s warm, and he smells like autumn leaves and faint cigarette smoke. It’s wonderful.

_Earth angel,_  
_Earth angel,_  
_The one I adore._  
_Love you forever_  
_And evermore._  
_I'm just a fool,  
_ _A fool in love with you._

She can’t stop grinning, laughing with joy as he spins her in front of him before catching her again. He’s smiling more than she’s seen in what seems like ages, eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights. She’s completely forgotten where they are or that there’s anyone else in the room. Right now it’s just the two of them and this song.

_I fell for you_  
_And I knew_  
_The vision of your loveliness._  
_I hope and I pray_  
_That someday  
_ _I'll be the vision of your happiness._

The song finally ends with one last _I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you,_ and he dips her expertly. They’re both panting, grinning wildly, and for a second she thinks he might—

MacCready claps slowly. “Amazing. Ten out of ten. Can we go now?”

Hancock blinks. He pulls Judith back up to standing and then steps away, picking up his shotgun again, face closing off. She’s never had the urge to punch one of her friends before in her life, but she’s having some pretty unkind thoughts about MacCready right now.

She clicks her Pip-Boy back into place, taking the holotape out and tucking them all carefully into her bag. When she looks up Hancock is watching her again. She chews on her lip nervously before trying a small, almost shy smile. A wave of relief washes over her when he smiles in return.

On the way back to the settlement, she catches him humming the song. She closes her eyes and listens, imagining their dance all over again, except this time MacCready doesn’t interrupt them at the end, and this time...

This time it’s perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup it's [their song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJcGi4-n_Yw) enjoy
> 
> (find me on tumblr @ [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu))


	14. The Great and Powerful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder that this story will contain spoilers, and not only for the main questline. this chapter contains heavy spoilers for a late-game side quest.

They reach the settlement again in the evening. The settler she’d talked to before looks more than a little surprised to see them as they approach.

“So, uh...you find those raiders?” she says.

“We did,” Judith says. “And we took care of them for you. They won’t be bothering you again.”

She blinks, obviously shocked. “Really? That’s...well, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.” She looks at Judith for a minute, then nods resolutely. “You know what, we were talking while you were gone, and we decided that if you really came through for us we’d join back up with the Minutemen. We have to stand together, don’t we?”

“We’ll be glad to have you,” she says, trying not to sound too giddy about it, while on the inside she feels like hugging the settler and then running all the way back to Sanctuary just to tell Preston about it.

“You’re all welcome to bed down here for the night,” the settler says. “We have a few extra sleeping rolls. My name’s Ana, by the way.”

Judith smiles. “Dorothy,” she says. “And that would be great.”

“Only need two,” Hancock says. “Nicky and I can stay up and help keep watch for the night.”

“If you’re sure,” Judith says. Hancock gives her a smile and nod, then he and Nick head outside.

After they leave, she and MacCready spread out the sleeping rolls on the broken wooden floor of the rundown building the settlers all sleep in.

“So, Preston,” MacCready quietly says once they’re lying in bed, Dogmeat snuggled up next to him and already snoring. “He seems like a nice guy.”

Judith smiles warmly. “He really is. I was very lucky to find him.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“What do you mean? Like... _oh,_ ” she says, sitting straight up, eyes wide. “Oh, no, no, no. It’s not like _that._ We’re not... _together._ He’s like an older brother, you know? I couldn’t even think of him like that. I just...no.”

“Fooled me,” he says, though he chuckles. “Think you might have fooled a few other people too.”

“God, I hope not,” she says, frowning.

MacCready barks out a laugh. A settler on the other side of the room sits up to loudly shush them, and MacCready loudly shushes the settler in return. Judith can’t help giggling, biting her lip to muffle the noise.

They’re silent for a while after that before MacCready rolls over to face her again.

“Sorry I gave you guys such a hard time,” he whispers.

“What? Me and Preston?”

“You and Hancock. Thought you were cheating. I’ve done some pretty bad shi—some pretty bad stuff in my life, but cheating is one thing I won’t put up with.”

She stiffens in her sleeping bag. Has she been that obvious? Until now, she hasn’t even admitted to herself what she’s been feeling for Hancock, but she can’t ignore it anymore. Now that someone else has said something about it, it’s too real.

“Well, you wouldn’t have had to worry about that anyway,” she whispers back bitterly. “Hancock’s not interested in me like that.”

“I doubt that. You haven’t seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking.”

She sighs. “Let’s...let’s just go to sleep.”

“Fine, but I’m telling you, I’m right.”

“I’d be willing to bet you always think you’re right.”

“That’s because I _am_ always right.”

She laughs again quietly, then rolls over to finally go to sleep.

—

The next morning they head back to Sanctuary after the settlers make them breakfast to thank them one more time. Soon enough they arrive, and she hunts down Preston immediately.

“So how’d it go?” he says.

She smiles excitedly. “We took care of the raiders for them, and they were so grateful they’ve decided to join back up with the Minutemen.”

Preston stares at her in awe, eyes wide and wondering. “Really? You—you did that?”

“Well, we all did,” she says.

“No, we all fought the raiders,” Nick says. “ _You’re_ the one that inspired them to join up again.”

She frowns. “How do you figure?”

“You think they looked at the rest of us grumps and decided there was still hope left in the world? That was all you, kid. You’re the charmer.”

“That’s—”

“Completely true?” MacCready cuts in. “Yeah, we saw the way they looked at you, like you were some kind of angel sent to rescue them. It was disgusting, really.”

“This is wonderful,” Preston says. “We could really do this. We could really rebuild the Minutemen. After Quincy, I thought all hope was lost.”

“You know, you never actually told me what happened in Quincy.”

His face darkens, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she adds.

“No, it’s time I did. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen, and if we’re going to do this, you deserve to know.” He sighs. “Let’s go sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”

They all walk down to the picnic table and sit around it, Judith across from Preston.

He stares down at the table, picking at a loose chunk of wood for a minute before he speaks.

“I don’t know if I’m _literally_ the last Minuteman, but I was part of the last active group... and now, well, it's just me. I was with Colonel Hollis' group. A mercenary group called the Gunners was attacking Quincy. The people there called for the Minutemen to help.”

He clenches his fists suddenly, scowling. Judith reaches out to gently set her hands over his. He looks up at her, the anger on his face melting into sorrow.

“We were the only ones that came,” he says softly. “The other groups...they just turned their backs. On us, and the folks in Quincy. Only a few of us got out alive. Colonel Hollis was dead. So I ended up in charge of the survivors. We never found a place to settle. One disaster after another...you saw how it ended in Concord.”

She squeezes his hands in an attempt to offer some comfort.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“Then you came along,” he says. “You saved us, and not just by killing that deathclaw. You gave us _hope._ You don’t know the effect you have on people, Dorothy. You make a room brighter just by being in it. It’s hard to look at you and not feel like the world might be a good place after all.”

Her cheeks are burning, and she can’t look him in the eye.

“Preston...”

“I mean it. And I know everyone here would agree with me. Dorothy, I can’t rebuild the Minutemen. I could barely even protect these people. And I...I just don’t have a lot of hope left in me right now. You’re the only reason I have any at all. But I can’t offer these other settlements hope when I don’t have any to give. I still have nightmares about Quincy almost every night, and sometimes in a fight I just...freeze up. It’s like I’m back there again. I can hear Colonel Hollis sometimes in the gunfire...the way he screamed when...”

She gets up abruptly and moves to the other side of the table to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. He closes his eyes and rests his head on her shoulder for a moment.

“I can’t rebuild the Minutemen,” he says again. “But I think you can.”

“You won’t be alone,” Hancock says.

“We’ll be there with you every step of the way,” Nick adds.

“Okay,” she says softly, then louder. “Okay. I’ll do it. For you, Preston.”

“Thank you,” he says, his eyes lighting up again, shining with unshed tears. “Thank you. I feel like this is a whole new start for the Minutemen, and the Commonwealth too. I know you can do this. I believe in you...General.”

She frowns. “Why are you calling me that?”

He grins. “The leader of the Minutemen has always held the rank of General. Our last leader was General Becker. After he died back in '82, nobody could agree on who should take his place. The one good thing about being the last Minuteman is there's no one to argue with me when I say you're the new general.”

“Well,” she says. “If I’m going to be the general...”

She plucks his hat off his head and places it on her own. He laughs, just as she’d hoped he would.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t exactly go with your dress, General,” he says.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Hancock watching her. He’s smiling warmly, though a little sadly. His eyes are soft, affection plain on his face. The way he’s looking at her...she’s suddenly not as certain as she was this morning that MacCready was wrong. Maybe Hancock _does_ feel at least something for her in return. Her stomach flutters nervously.

Then it growls loudly, and Preston laughs again.

“Sounds like the general could use some lunch,” he says. “Come on, let’s go get you all fed.”

—

That afternoon it begins to rain lightly, the breeze unseasonably warm. They all take a break from work to enjoy it. She’s feeling thoughtful and a little crowded, so she crosses the bridge behind the settlement and walks up the hill towards the vault entrance. She stares at it for a while, then walks past it to sit on the ledge overlooking Sanctuary.

She hears crunching grass behind her and turns her head to see Hancock approaching. He sits next to her without a word. They’re not touching, but he’s close enough she can just barely feel the warmth of his body next to hers. She wants to lean into it, but she doesn’t know how he’d react.

He doesn’t look at her, instead gazing down at the settlement. She faintly hears Sturges and Preston laughing at something from below. The light rain casts a faint shimmer over the scene, and the world seems unreal again. So unreal that she’s suddenly bold enough to give into the urge to lay her head on Hancock’s shoulder. She hears him suck in a breath, feels him tense, but he says nothing. After a few seconds he relaxes and starts breathing again. She closes her eyes.

“ _There will come soft rains,”_ she says, _“and the smell of the ground,_  
_And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;_

_And frogs in the pools singing at night,_  
_And wild plum trees in tremulous white;_

_Robins will wear their feathery fire,_  
_Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;_

_And not one will know of the war, not one_  
_Will care at last when it is done._

_Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,_  
_if mankind perished utterly;_

_And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn_  
_Would scarcely know that we were gone.”_

He’s silent for a long time, then leans his head against the top of hers. Slowly, gently, he reaches out to lay his hand over hers where it rests on her knee.

The confession spills out of her before she can stop it. “It's not my real name,” she says. “Dorothy. It's...from a movie.”

He hums thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “A movie, huh? Must have been a good one.”

“It was my favorite. I just...I still thought I was dreaming, when Preston asked me what my name was, you know? I think I was still in shock. I kept thinking about the movie, I guess as a way to cope, and I gave him her name instead of mine. Then I just kept doing it, like I couldn’t stop the lie once I’d started it.”

“Hancock ain’t my birth name either,” he says.

“Really?”

“Really. I was born John McDonough.”

“McDonough? Like the mayor of Diamond City?”

“Exactly like,” he says. “Guy’s my brother.”

She sits up suddenly. “What?”

He smiles bitterly. “What, can’t see the family resemblance?” He sighs. “We grew up together in a little shack on the waterfront. Guy was the standard big brother—entitled, punchy, liked to shove rotten tatoes down my shirt and slap my back. But I never thought he’d be capable of something like what they did to those ghouls.”

She frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You never wondered why ghouls aren’t allowed in Diamond City? Wasn’t always that way. Used to be plenty of ghouls living there...until my brother decided to try and get elected with his anti-ghoul crusade, ‘Mankind for McDonough.’ Before you know it, you got families with kids lining up to drag folks they called neighbor out of their homes and throw ‘em to the ruins.”

“That’s terrible,” she whispered. “He threw his own brother out, too?”

“Nah, I still wasn’t a ghoul at this point. I didn’t have to leave. I just couldn’t stand to stay in that cesspool after that. I'd been sneaking off to Goodneighbor for years to get decent chems, so I knew the safe routes. I managed to track down a couple of the families, lead 'em there, but most couldn't get used to the Goodneighbor lifestyle. I brought them food for a couple of weeks, but after a while, they just disappeared.”

He sighs again. “I remember storming into his office above the stands after the inauguration speech. He was just standing there, staring out the window, watching as the city turned on the ghouls. He didn't even look at me, just said, 'I did it, John. It's finally mine.' Should have killed him right there, but I don't think it would have changed anything. Instead I pleaded with him, begged him to call it off. He said he couldn't. He had nothing against the ghouls, he was just carrying out the will of the people, and he couldn't betray the voters. And then he smiled. That hideous fucking mile-long smile. He never smiled like that when we were kids. I didn't even recognize him.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t want to share the same name as him anymore,” she says. “Why Hancock, though?”

He gives her a little smile and shakes his head. “That’s a pretty gruesome story. Not sure you’d like it. Short version is, some ass named Vic used to run the town. Us drifters had it pretty rough under him, and a lot of people got hurt or killed. After one particularly bad night, I got so high, I blacked out completely. When I finally came to, I was on the floor of the Old State House, right in front of the clothes of John Hancock.”

He sits up a little straighter. “John Hancock, first American hoodlum and defender of the people,” he says proudly. “I might've still been high, but those clothes spoke to me, told me what I needed to do. I smashed the case, put them on, and started a new life as Hancock.”

“After that, I gathered up some of the drifters, and we...put an end to Vic’s reign of terror, you could say. I ended up on the balcony of the State House, gun in hand, draped in Hancock's duds, looking at all the people of Goodneighbor assembled below.” He shrugs. “I had to say something. The first time I said 'em, they didn't even feel like my words. 'Of the people, for the people.' Was my inaugural address. Became Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor that day. And from then on, I vowed I'd never stand by and watch ever again."

“Wow,” she says. “That’s...”

He looks away. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to hang around with me anymore.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I? Because I found out you’re a hero?”

He stiffens suddenly, looking at her with wide, startled eyes. “A hero?”

“Of course. You stood up for the injustice in Diamond City, and when you couldn’t change it you tried to take care of those families and give them a home and food. Then you saved Goodneighbor and made it into a place where everyone’s welcome and everyone takes care of each other. How does that not make you a hero?”

He chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Nobody’s ever called me that before.”

“Well, _I_ think you’re a hero.”

He looks at her, eyes soft and sparkling again. “Thanks,” he says.

They’re silent for a long time.

“You haven't asked what _my_ name is,” she finally says.

“Figure you'll tell me if you want me to know.”

“Judith,” she whispers. “Teachers called me Judy sometimes, but my ma didn't like people shortening my name. The actress that played Dorothy in the movie was named Judy, and I was so excited when I found out that I tried to get everyone to call me that. She got so mad.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” he says softly. “So what do you want me to call you?”

“What do you mean? You know my real name now.”

“That ain’t how it works. Just because you were _born_ one name doesn’t mean it’s your _real_ name. Like how I don’t like people callin’ me John anymore. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, I...I guess I don’t know.” She bites her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know which one feels right. Maybe both do? People have been calling me Dorothy for so long now. They feel like two different people, but...they both feel like _me._ I guess I don’t know _who_ I am anymore.”

“Well then,” he says, draping his arm over her shoulders and squeezing comfortingly. “I guess I’ll just have to keep callin’ you Bluebird for now.”

She smiles softly down at her lap, feels her cheeks burning and can’t look up at his face. “Works for me, Scarecrow.”

“That from the movie too?”

“Yes,” she says. “He’s the first one she meets after she starts her journey. He’s by her side the whole way, and he thinks he has no brains but he’s actually very clever and very kind, and...” She looks up, finds him watching her intently. “And he’s very special to her,” she finishes in a whisper.

He swallows, and she finds her eyes drawn to the motion of his neck, the way his lips part as he opens them to speak.

“Bluebird, I—”

“Dorothy?” Preston calls from below. “You up there? Is everything okay?”

Judith just blinks for a moment, dazed as the dreamlike quality of the moment drops away. They stare at each other for another second, then Hancock smiles nervously and takes his arm back.

“Break’s over, I guess,” he says.

They stand together, Judith brushing the back of her skirt off and carefully not looking back at Hancock.

“So who’s Preston?” he says.

She frowns. “What?”

“In this movie of yours. I’ve heard you call Nicky ‘Tin Man’ a couple times, thought it was a little rude. Didn’t know why he seemed to like it, but I’m assuming it’s a movie thing too. So who’s Preston?”

She laughs as they walk back down the path from the vault to Sanctuary.

“Well, it’s not a _perfect_ analogy. But...well, if you go in order...oh dear.”

“What?”

“Well, that’d make him either the good witch of the North or...the mayor of Munchkin City. And that would make Marcy, Jun, Sturges and Mama Murphy his munchkins.”

Hancock grins. “I don’t know what those are, but I like the sound of it.”

“Just don’t tell _them_ about it. Well, Mama Murphy might be the good witch, now that I think about it. She’s the one who told me where to go and sent me off, after all. That and her mysterious powers.”

“Now you’ve lost me. Go back to the part where I get to call Preston a munchkin.”

She laughs again, shaking her head, and he grins.

—

They stay for a few days, helping out with the crops and with Sturges’ project of building more homes, now that the old ones are patched up and full of a mix of salvaged and newly built furniture.

On the third afternoon, Hancock bursts into the house where she’s working on restoring a chair.

“Bluebird, I’m so...I’m so sorry.”

“What? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I just saw...look, maybe you should sit down.”

She sits on the floor, heart beating fast in her chest, hundreds of awful possibilities forcing themselves into her head.

“Is someone hurt? Hancock, what’s wrong?”

He kneels down in front of her, shaking his head sadly. “Preston is...Preston is cheating on you, Bluebird.”

Her horror and anxiety immediately turn to nothing but confusion.

“He’s...what?”

“I just saw him and Sturges kissing. They...god, they weren’t even trying to hide it. I’m so sorry.”

“Preston and Sturges? Oh, that’s wonderful! I wouldn’t even have suspected. This is so exciting!”

Now Hancock is the one to look confused. “I don’t understand. He’s _cheating on you_ , and you’re excited?”

“Cheating on me? How would he be cheating on me? We’re not—” And suddenly so many things make sense. MacCready was right about this—he _wasn’t_ the only one who thought...

“Hancock,” she says slowly. “Did you think Preston and I were together?”

He frowns, looking just as confused as she feels. “You aren’t?”

“God, _no,_ ” she says. “He’s like a big brother to me. I could never.”

“Oh,” he says. “I thought... _oh.”_

They just stare at each other for a minute, and his mind must be racing as fast as hers is—thinking back over a hundred little interactions, realizing in hindsight what they meant, and more importantly what they _didn’t_ mean.

Maybe he doesn’t see her as a little kid. Maybe he _does_ want her too. Maybe when he said waking up together was inappropriate, it was just because he thought...

The situation is so absurd, she bursts out laughing and can’t stop.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, he joins in.

When Preston and Sturges walk in, they look up for a moment, then laugh even harder.

“What’s so funny?” Preston asks.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, wiping a stray tear out of her eye. “Nothing at all.”

She grins at them, noticing for the first time that they’re holding hands. Preston is watching her face, shifting in place anxiously.

“Sturges,” she says, forcing her voice to sound suddenly stern.

He swallows hard. “Yes?”

“You take good care of Preston, got it? I’ll send Dogmeat after you if you hurt him, you know.”

He grins, shoulders relaxing. “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I got no plans to, believe me.”

Preston smiles hesitantly. “So you’re...okay with this?”

“Okay with it? I’m ecstatic! I’m so happy for the two of you.”

She gets up and crosses the room to hug him, and he buries his face in her hair and sighs in relief.

“Love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” she says.

This time when she looks back at Hancock, he’s smiling warmly at the two of them. She sticks her tongue out, and he bites his lip like he’s trying not to burst out laughing again.

She can’t remember the last time she felt this happy. And looking at Hancock, seeing the dawning hope on his face, she knows it’s only going to get better from here.

—

It’s only another day before Preston gets word from another settlement and they have to head out again, but she’s almost excited to head out this time.

She introduces herself as the general now, and as she’d suspected she gets funny looks, but when she returns in triumph and reassures them that their worries are over, the suspicion on their faces melts away. She begins to think she can really do this—they can really put the Minutemen back together.

They spend the next month back and forth between helping out settlements and building in Sanctuary until Oberland Station sends her to clear out a little store she used to shop at called Back Street Apparel.

When they’re finished, Hancock and Nick approach her.

“Hey, Bluebird,” Hancock says. “We were thinking, since we’re in the neighborhood maybe I could check on Goodneighbor and Nick could check in on Ellie.”

“That sounds great,” she says, excited at the prospect of seeing Daisy again.

Daisy is overjoyed to see them, and gives Judith three new books she’d been saving for her. Hancock spends the morning talking with Fahrenheit while Nick gets to know Kleo a little better and Judith begins reading her books. MacCready spends his time down in the Third Rail chatting with Magnolia. Dogmeat is with him, as he has been for most of the last month. For some reason, Dogmeat’s presence seems to calm the man. Judith has woken up more than a few times to the sound of MacCready crying out in his sleep—sometimes calling the name Lucy over and over—and has seen Dogmeat press himself close to MacCready and lick his face until he wakes, letting him stroke his soft fur until he’s calm again.

She can’t even bring herself to be jealous that he’s getting all of the dog’s attention—if Dogmeat can help him, she’s glad to see them sticking together.

—

They head off for Diamond City next.

When they reach the gates, she’s prepared for resistance again, but the guards stand up a little straighter when they approach.

“Heard some news about you,” one says. “People say you’re the leader of the Minutemen now. They say you’re helping out settlements and taking out raiders and ferals. That true?”

“Yes,” she says cautiously.

He holds out a hand. She’s frozen in shock for a second, then takes it and shakes.

“You’re doing a real service for the whole Commonwealth.” He looks back at Hancock. “Anyone gives you guys any trouble, you let me know. As far as I’m concerned, you’re _all_ welcome here.”

She stumbles over her words a little as she thanks him, and they all enter the city in awed silence.

Finally Hancock nudges her with his elbow. “Sounds like you’re quite the hero yourself.”

She laughs. “If only they knew I tripped over a wire this morning and nearly got shot in the head by a trap, they might be a little less impressed.”

He takes her hand and squeezes. “Don’t remind me. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

They’ve been steadily moving closer over the last few weeks, heading towards something that now feels inevitable but never quite reaching it. She’s both enjoying the tension and incredibly frustrated with it. Every time she thinks they’re finally going to _do_ something about it, they get interrupted or Hancock gets flustered and moves away.

Still, every time she catches him humming Earth Angel, she’s more certain that it’s going to happen soon.

MacCready stops to eat at Power Noodles while Nick and Hancock catch up with Ellie. She wanders the town aimlessly, enjoying the crisp autumn air. After a while, she rounds a corner as she walks and nearly runs into the reporter they’d met the first time they arrived—Piper.

“Well, well,” she says, “if it isn’t the general of the Minutemen. Have time for a quick interview?”

“Um, I don’t think—”

“Come on, we can talk in my office. It won’t take any time at all.”

“But I don’t—”

Piper takes her by the elbow and leads her through the crowd. Just before they reach her office, someone yells Piper’s name from nearby.

She frowns and looks around, finally spotting a man lying on the ground, clutching his stomach. She gasps.

“Danny?”

“What’s going on?” Hancock’s voice comes from behind them. Judith turns her head and sees her companions approaching. Nick breaks into a run when he sees Danny.

“Hold on, Danny,” he says. “What happened?”

“I was making my rounds near the mayor’s office when I heard shouting. I thought he was in trouble at first...then when I found him, he was with a synth. One of those older ones with all the metal parts. Said something about how they can’t do this to him. That’s when they noticed I was there. Got plugged two times before I ran to the elevator. I remember falling...then it’s kind of hazy.”

Hancock kneels as he’s speaking, pulling two stimpaks from his bag and injecting them into Danny’s side.

“Thank you,” Danny says, before looking back up. “You were right, Piper. He’s one of them.”

“Oh, God,” she whispers.

“No,” Hancock says. “There’s no way.”

“We should’ve done something,” Danny continues. “Ain’t like we weren’t warned. Just didn’t want to admit it...”

“Come on,” Hancock growls. “We’re going up there and settling this. _Now.”_

Judith has to run to keep up as Hancock strides for the elevator. MacCready and Dogmeat stay with Danny, while Piper and Nick follow Hancock with her.

They take the elevator up, finding a room with little in it but an empty desk and some filing cabinets.

“Where’s Geneva?” Piper mumbles.

Hancock tries to open the double doors behind the desk, then begins shoving at them with his shoulder when they won’t open.

“Stay back!” a man’s voice from behind the door says.

“You!” Piper shouts. “I knew it! I knew you were a synth, McDonough!”

“Open this goddamn door!” Hancock yells.

“John?” McDonough says. “John, it’s me, your brother. Tell them to leave me alone. You wouldn’t let them hurt your own brother.”

“After everything you’ve done, I should kill you myself,” Hancock snarls. “Where’s my real brother? What did they do to him?”

Piper finally finds a button under Geneva’s desk and presses it, and the doors swing open. Inside a woman is on her knees, tears streaming down her face as McDonough points a gun at them.

“That’s far enough!” he says.

“Help me!” the woman yells. “He’s crazy!”

“I’m not just going to be discarded and tossed to the wolves. I’m the mayor, goddammit!”

“Oh, so the Institute didn’t want you back?” Piper taunts.

“John, don’t listen to them,” he says.

“Where’s my fucking brother?” Hancock growls.

“Oh, goddammit, you _know_ what they do to people!” McDonough snaps. “He’s been dead for ten years.”

Hancock freezes, and Judith desperately wants to go to him, but doesn’t want to risk the woman’s life with any sudden movements.

“Listen,” she says slowly. “We can help you, but not when you’re holding a hostage. You need to let her go.”

“All right, all right,” he says frantically. “She can go. But I’m walking out of this city a free man, or I’m killing as many of you...disgusting, filthy savages as I can.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Hancock says, pulling his gun as Geneva runs out of the room, still sobbing. “You killed my brother, you piece of shit.”

“I-I didn’t kill anyone! I’m innocent! The Institute killed your brother, not me. I was just following orders.”

“Were you following orders when you killed all the ghouls in Diamond City, too? Or was that one all you? I should have known my brother wouldn’t do that. Even if he _was_ a royal asshole.”

“Hancock,” Nick says softly. “He needs to stand trial.”

“Stand trial?” Hancock says. “How’s this for a trial?”

Judith barely has time to duck out of the way before Hancock and McDonough open fire. She scrambles to pull her gun out to help Hancock, but before she can even get it into her hands, the synth’s head goes flying and the body slumps to the ground, sparks arcing from the stump of its neck onto the floor for a moment before dying out.

Piper is huddled in the corner as Nick shields her, both staring at Hancock with wide eyes. He just looks down at the synth’s corpse, face blank and expressionless.

Judith stands up slowly and walks towards him, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Ten years I’ve spent hating the guy for all the wrong reasons,” he mumbles, staring down at the corpse of his brother’s replica.

“I’m sorry, Hancock,” Piper says awkwardly. “This...this has gotta be...I can’t even imagine.”

“Can I just be alone for a while?” he says.

“Of course,” Nick says, resting his hand on Piper’s shoulder as they turn to leave the room.

Judith begins to pull away, but Hancock grabs her hand.

“Not you,” he mumbles. “Need you.”

“Of course,” she says. “Anything.”

He ends up curled up on the floor, head on her lap, hat tossed off somewhere to the side. She strokes gentle fingers over his scalp soothingly, wishing she could do something—anything at all—to make this better. Her chest aches.

“Could you sing something?” he mumbles into her skirt. “Just...anything.”

The first song that comes to her, of course, is the song that’s always comforted her. The same song her mother used to sing for her and Ruby, the song that Ruby in turn sang for her when their mother was gone.

“ _Lavender's blue, dilly, dilly, lavender's green,_  
_When I am king, dilly, dilly, you shall be queen._  
_Who told you so, dilly, dilly, who told you so?_  
_'Twas my own heart, dilly, dilly, that told me so._

_Call up your men, dilly, dilly, set them to work,_  
_Some to the plough, dilly, dilly, some to the fork,_  
_Some to make hay, dilly, dilly, some to cut corn,_  
_While you and I, dilly, dilly, keep ourselves warm._

_Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, lavender's blue,_  
_If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you._  
_Let the birds sing, dilly, dilly, and the lambs play,_  
_We shall be safe, dilly, dilly, out of harm's way._

_I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to sing._  
_When I am queen, dilly, dilly, you'll be my king_  
_Who told me so, dilly, dilly, who told me so?_  
_I told myself, dilly, dilly, I told me so.”_

His shoulders begin to shake partway through the song, and she can feel his tears soaking through her dress. When she finally finishes he sits up, eyes red and cheeks wet, and leans in to kiss her cheek. He buries his face in her shoulder for a long time. When he sits back and looks into her face again, his eyes are hard and determined.

“Never again,” he growls. “I promised myself I’d never stand by and watch ever again. But I’ve _been_ standing by, hiding in Goodneighbor, while the Institute is still out there hurting people.”

“But what can we do?” Judith whispers. “Where do we even start?

“I don’t know. But I won’t stand for this shit anymore. I have to do something.”

“Okay,” she whispers, twining their fingers together. “Then we will. Together.”

He clasps her hand tight. “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry <3
> 
> (still at [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu))


End file.
